The Wolf and the Bull
by arabe11a
Summary: The Wolf and the Bull The Wolf and the Bull The Wolf and the Bull The Wolf and the Bull The Wolf and the Bull
1. The Harkened Dawn

The Harkened Dawn

Chapter 1

Nobody moved right away. They were all worried that the second they let their guards down the dead would pop back up to slaughter them all. Gendry was panting hard. His arms and legs trembled from exertion and fear. Tormund dropped down beside him. Gendry jumped and looked down at him.

"Ah," the wild man rumbled, "Fuck."

Gendry looked around the yard. Dead bodies littered the earth. They were everywhere. He'd never seen so much death in one place. He saw movement coming towards them. He lifted his mace in preparation for another horde of the dead.

"What happened?" Podrick Payne asked.

Jamie Lannister kicked at one of the collapsed White Walkers. A look of suspicion heavy on the man's haggard face. Brienne of Tarth frowned and stowed her blade on her hip.

"They must've got the Night King. Jon Snow said if we killed the Night King the rest would fall." Brienne offered.

"Is that…?" Tormund asked, sudden spirit lifting his voice. He sat up to look and let out a rumbly laugh. "I knew it! A woman like you would never fall!" He crowed.

Brienne looked up at him, surprise and alarm spread over her face. She was splattered with blood and muck. They all were. Brienne let a light sigh brush through her lips. A small smile played at her lips.

"Giants milk did you some good, it would seem." Jamie Lannister japed.

Tormund laughed heartily. He jumped down from the rampart they were standing on. Gendry followed suit, walking over to the trio. Podrick stared at the dead bodies at his feet. Gendry couldn't blame him. He was still expecting them to put up more of a fight.

"Who do you think got him?"

Brienne frowned up at the sky. "I'd bet the Dragon Queen." She hedged.

"Really?" Jamie said.

"You've never seen Jon Snow fighting." Tormund argued. "I wouldn't bet against my little crow just yet."

Gendry spied something on the ground a few yards away. His stomach clenched. He moved over to it quickly and yanked it up out of the dirt. It was one half of the staff he'd made for Arya just hours before. His jaw was tight. He looked around at the bodies.

"Arya." He whispered.

He saw a small woman's body lying face down a ways away. He hurried over and flipped it onto its back. He might have sighed with relief, but he still didn't know where she was. He looked through the yard. _Had he seen her_? He wondered. _Had she passed him_?

"Clegane!" Brienne called.

Gendry spun and saw the Hound hobbling toward them. He was filthy. His hair was stringy and matted with blood. His armor was dented and his eyes held a daze felt in all the survivors. He looked up at his name.

"Dondarion?" Tormund asked.

The Hound stared at them for a minute. Unspeaking. Unseeing. Slowly, he gave a small shake of his head.

"Arya," Gendry forced himself to say. "Did you see Arya?"

The Hound looked at Gendry then. Life returning to his eyes. Life and grief. Gendry could feel his breath coming shorter. She should have been in the crypt. He should have insisted she stay in the crypt. She would have been safe. But no. That wasn't Arya. That was never going to be Arya. She would die with a sword in her hand.

"I tried my best, boy. She ran off somewhere after that Red Woman told her something about the God of Death. Right before the dead swamped the room." The Hound shook his head. "I don't know."

Gendry's hand clenched around the staff. She ran off. Where would she try to go? He spun in a small circle. Searching. Thinking. Where would she have gone?

"Jon did it then?" Daenerys asked from the gate. She had a horse with her. Jorah Mormont's body was slung over the saddle. Two Unsullied flanked her. She was filthy. Apparently not all of her fighting was done from the back of her dragon.

"We haven't seen him." Tormund told her. "I'll assume it was him alright."

Daenerys swayed on her feet. She leaned heavily against the horse's neck. The battle had been a drain on everyone and they were used to the physicalities of war. The Dragon Queen had not been trained in close combat. Gendry couldn't imagine what she must be feeling.

"Did he get to Bran? The Night King, he was going after Bran. Did Jon save him?" Daenerys insisted.

"We haven't seen any of the Starks." Brienne told her patiently.

Jamie looked up, suddenly. He turned his head to the crypts. "Tyrion." Was all he said before he rushed toward the crypt.

Everyone followed after. Even Daenerys.

"Say, the crypt was filled with dead people, wasn't it?" Podrick started. "Suppose they came back with all the rest."

Brienne shot her squire a loathsome look to shut him up. Jamie banged on the heavy door. There was no sound from inside. Jamie knocked again.

"Tyrion?" He called.

"Lady Sansa?" Brienne added.

"Missandei!" Daenerys cried.

Slowly, there was the sound of the door bar being lifted. It swung open and the lot of them were standing there. Sansa stepped out first. She looked from face to face, landing on Brienne. She swallowed hard.

"Jon?" She asked.

Brienne shook her head. "We haven't seen him, My Lady."

Sansa let out a breath. "What about Arya? Or Bran?"

Gendry squeezed his eyes shut.

"Nobody has seen any of your siblings." Brienne said gently.

"Has anybody checked the Godswood?" She demanded. Her voice was stronger now. She was holding herself straighter.

"No need, Sansa." A voice said from the other side of the stone archway. Gendry turned and saw Bran in his wheelchair. Jon Snow was pushing him along. Gendry's heart soared. Arya was there. Tripping along beside them, barely able to hold herself up. Blood covered half of her face. Her hair was sweaty and stringy. She was filthy from head to toe and Gendry had never seen a more beautiful sight.

Tormund let out a laugh and barreled into Jon. "I knew you'd do it! I knew you'd kill the Night King!" Tormund crowed.

Jon slapped the man's shoulder amiably. "Wasn't me." Jon said.

"No?" Tormund stepped back and looked down at Bran.

"Theon?" Sansa asked.

Jon looked at her with pain in his eyes.

"He fought valiantly." Bran announced. "But in the end, it was Arya that saved us."

Everyone's eyes turned to Arya. Everyone's except Gendry's whose eyes hadn't left her since she appeared. She wasn't really looking at anybody. Gendry didn't know if she even knew where she was. Or who was with her. Jon touched her shoulder and she jerked away.

"It's over, Arya." Jon told her quietly. "You did it. It's over now."

Arya blinked slowly and nodded. She looked up and around at all the people. Sansa moved quickly, engulfing Arya in a hug. Arya didn't respond at first, but slowly her arms moved up to return the embrace.

"I've never been happier that you are so very strange." Sansa cried.

The Hound stepped forward next. He didn't hug her, he only set his big hand on her shoulder. Arya looked up at him and tears pooled in her eyes. Gendry saw unshed tears fresh in the Hound's dark eyes to match.

"I didn't want him to die for me." She said, quietly. "I took him off."

The Hound nodded. "It was him that chose to die for you. And with good reason." The Hound smiled at her. "Don't go getting kind on me again."

Arya nodded. There was a numbness to it that she couldn't seem to shake. Gendry felt sickened. She had suffered enough. She had seen enough. Hadn't she?

Her eyes caught his suddenly. Gendry smiled at her and raised the half of her spear he'd found. She looked at it and gave him a tired smile.

"Is that for me?" She asked.

Gendry shook his head. "What do you need a weapon like this for?"

He was aware of the stares. The murmuring. He didn't care. She was alive. They were both alive. They had survived literal death and come out smiling.

"How many did we lose?" Arya asked, suddenly serious. Remembering where they were.

Daenerys shook her head. "That is tomorrow's problem."

"Torgo Nudho?" Missandei whispered.

Daenerys looked at her friend. "I don't know."

Missandei's eyes filled with tears, but she did not sob. She gave her queen a small nod and looked away to the mountain of bodies. Gendry felt for her. He hoped she was as lucky as he was.

Something touched his hand. He looked down and saw Arya's hand in his. He glanced at Jon who was squinting at the action. Arya tugged Gendry to follow her. He cast his eyes nervously around the group. The Hound was glaring at him with about as much animosity as a man could put in a stare. Sansa was smiling softly. A knowing tilt in her brow. Bran met Gendry's eyes plainly. He smiled at him and inclined his head ever so slightly.

He followed Arya. Not that he had much of a choice. She was barely keeping her feet, but her hold on him was firm. She looked up at the towers of her castle. Some had been toppled. Others burnt. Gendry wondered which had been her room and if it still stood.

He expected her to lead him up to a room. Maybe even back to the storeroom they had left a few long hours before. Instead, Arya led him down into a cavernous tunnel below the castle. It remained mostly untouched. A few fallen corpses were scattered here and there, but the deeper they walked, the fewer bodies they found.

Suddenly, the tunnel opened up into a steamy pit. All around them were pools of water. A few even bubbled with heat. There were a few torches lit around the cavern, but the water itself seemed to glow on its own. _Curious_. Gendry thought. He tried to recall what Arya had said about the hot springs when she'd told him about Winterfell all those years ago.

When he looked back to Arya, she had already shucked her clothes and was standing naked an arm's length away from him. Gendry let his eyes drink her in. He'd never get enough of seeing her. All of her.

Arya didn't say anything to him. She turned and stepped down into one of the pools. She sighed at the warm waters and shut her eyes. Gendry ripped his battle dirtied clothes away from him as fast as he could. He cursed his boots when his laces snared and tangled together. At last, he was bare and stepping down into the nice waters.

Gendry found a bucket with soap and a rag on one of the ledges. He took the washcloth and dipped it in the water. Gendry moved to Arya slowly. Her eyes were still shut and he had seen how jumpy she'd been earlier with Jon.

Gendry settled a hand on the crook of her neck to hold her steady. With the other he used the washcloth to gently wipe away the blood on her face. Arya opened her eyes and stared at him as he cleaned her. She blinked hard when his rag caught the split in her forehead.

"Sorry." He murmured, trying to clean around it.

Arya let him clean her face a few seconds longer before her hand came up to catch his in hers. She pulled the washcloth away from him and ran it over his face. Gendry shut his eyes as she worked. Her hand was planted on his cheek and then she was kissing him again.

Gendry inhaled sharply through his nose and pulled her against him. Arya let out something between a sigh and a sob. Her fingers clutched at his bare shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist. She slid down over him, her mouth locked on Gendry's. He could feel her tears on his face, but he knew better than to say anything. Some of those tears were likely his anyway. Instead, he pretended it was sweat from the heat of the baths. Or steam.

Gendry's hand went between them. He found her clit and worked at it until she shook with release. Only then did Gendry let himself have his. Arya gasped against his mouth and a horrible sob ripped through her immediately after.

"Shh shh." Gendry fell back against the wall of the pool, holding her to him and rubbing her back. She shook in his arms, her head pressed up under his chin. Her arms were wrapped around herself.

"I thought I was going to die." She whispered.

"I know." Gendry pressed his lips to the top of her head. "I was scared, too."

"I'm so tired, Gendry." She confessed.

"I'm sure there's a bed somewhere that's not been destroyed." He pulled her hair back from her face. "If not, those grain sacks were actually pretty comfortable."

Arya snorted against his chest. Then she laughed. Harder and harder until she was laughing and crying at the same time. Gendry laughed with her. Relieved that he was able to bring some levity to her pain.

Arya pushed away from him and dipped her head under the water. She moved to the bucket and took the soap to her hair. The water swirled with browns and reds until they disappeared into the fissures. She floated on her back in the water, staring up at the black, stone ceiling. Gendry didn't know what she was thinking about. All he could think about was the future.

The dead had marched on her castle. Thousands of people had stood and died. Yesterday there had been no future. Yesterday there was only death. Now, Gendry could only imagine a life with Arya. A life he was petrified she wouldn't want. He would follow her anywhere, but she may not want him.

She had only come to him the night before because she was certain that that was it. She was here now because she needed someone to hold her and soothe her. It didn't have to be him. He knew that. She could have anyone in all of Westeros. Anyone in Essos, too, most like. And Gendry couldn't help but think of the two of them running off together. Of a child or two that they might have together. Stark children, not bastards. The children of a hero. The slayer of the Night King. The bringer of the dawn.

Gendry could get a shop anywhere. He was a good enough smith he could plant himself wherever it was Arya saw fit to go. She didn't mind a simple life. At least she hadn't before. Would the Bringer of the Dawn expect more? Would she prefer luxury he would be ill equipped to give? Would she leave him for someone better?

"Are you alright?" Arya asked. She was suddenly in front of him again.

Gendry forced a smile onto his face. "Me? You're the one that single handedly saved the world. I should be asking you."

Arya frowned at him. "I think the steam might be getting to you."

She stood up and stepped out of the pool. Gendry followed suit. If he was going to have to give her up someday, he was going to be damn sure he spent all the time he could with her while he had the chance.

Arya picked up the half staff from where Gendry had dropped it in his haste to be rid of his clothes. She had dressed in her worn leathers. She twirled it between her fingers. Gendry looked at her belt. The catspaw dagger was still on her left hip, but Needle was gone. He wondered if she'd left it somewhere for safe keeping.

"This was really good work. I wish I'd managed to keep a better handle on it." Arya said, starting up the tunnel.

"I'll try not to hold that over your head." Gendry teased.

"Maybe you can make me a new weapon." Arya suggested. "I don't really need dragon glass anymore, do I?"

Gendry wanted to touch her again, but she was twirling that staff back and forth between her hands. Gendry frowned. He remembered how happy she had been when he'd brought the staff to her the night before.

"What happened to Needle?"

"Nothing." Arya gave a nonchalant shrug. "You don't need to make me anything else I suppose."

_No. I'm going to_. Gendry squinted at her silhouette. The sun had risen high in the sky. Gendry felt himself smile. The days had been grey and overcast every day that he had spent in the North. Today, the sky was blue. The clouds had dispersed completely. Vanished with the dead.

The yard was empty save a few survivors sifting through the dead for familiar faces. Arya led them to the great hall. Even through the thick wooden doors, Gendry could hear the cheers and chatter of the occupants. Arya could hear them, too. She froze outside the doors.

Gendry moved around her and grabbed the door handle. Arya looked up at him. Her eyes had gone to steel. Arya passed the staff from her right hand to her left and took up his hand in her own. She took a deep, slow breath and nodded at him to open the door.

The moment the door opened, the great hall fell silent. It was full to brimming with survivors, few that they were. Jon, Sansa, Daenerys, and Bran all sat at the head table. The chair in the center was empty. Arya stared around the room, her eyes taking in everything. Everyone.

Gendry tugged at her hand, pulling her into the room. He got her to the middle of the room and dropped her hand, stepping away. He saw Daenerys and the Starks rise from their seats. Gendry grinned at her.

"My good people of the North, may I present, the lady Arya Stark." Daenerys Targaryen started.

"Bringer of the Dawn and savior of mankind." Sansa continued.

"It was she and she alone that slayed the Night King and led us out of the Long Night." Jon announced.

"Azor ahai. The princess that was promised." Bran finished, solemnly.

A cheer erupted through the room. Arya stood in a daze amidst it all. Gendry watched her as she struggled to keep her expression neutral. Her smile won out. Big and bright. The kind of smile that made everyone smile along with her. Gendry was no exception.

Brienne and the Hound ushered her to the head table. Sansa guided her to the seat at the center. Someone brought forward a plate of food for her. Another brought drink. Arya's dazed look came back. She smiled, but her eyes had stopped seeing.

A chant started up around him. The people were all cheering, "Bringer of the Dawn."

Someone touched Gendry's shoulder. He spun around toward the table. Podrick held out a plate of food for him. Gendry took it and sat down on the bench. The Hound sat at his right. Tormund on his left. Podrick sat in front of him beside Brienne and Jamie Lannister. Tyrion was beside his brother.

Gendry took a bite of some sort of meat without really tasting it. He couldn't see how anybody had the energy to cheer like they were. Gendry didn't think he'd ever have it in him to move again. A cup appeared in front of him. The Hound's big hand slapped his back.

"Drink, boy." The Hound told him in a voice much softer than any he'd ever heard from the big man.

"You shouldn't call him that, you know." Jamie Lannister said.

"Fuck's it to you, Lannister?" The Hound growled back.

Jamie nodded at Gendry. "He's a soldier, you know. He fought in the Vanguard. He held his own. One would think he deserves a bit more respect than to be called 'boy.'"

"Makes no difference to me." Gendry said. His voice was a lot heavier than he expected.

"What would you like me to call him, Kingslayer?" The Hound growled as if Gendry hadn't spoken.

Jamie stared at Gendry now. Stared and squinted. Gendry picked up the cup of wine the Hound had so generously poured for him and drank. If only to avoid Lannister's stares.

"Gods, you're one of Robert's." Jamie uttered.

"Hm?" Gendry said. "What?"

Jamie narrowed his eyes at him. "Don't play innocent with me. You're a soldier. And a Baratheon. I'd bet my house on it."

Tyrion was staring at Gendry now, too. "Now that you mention it, I do see something of dear King Robert in the lad." The Imp added.

Gendry pushed his plate back and stood. He wasn't ashamed of his parentage. There may have been a time when he was, but he could hardly remember that time now. Still, he'd be damned if he sat at a table with the Lannisters that once tried to have him murdered discussing his resemblance to a father they did kill.

"Prince Gendry, then?" The Hound ground out. "That what you suggest I call him?"

Gendry gave a start. He'd never heard an honorific set before his name before. Certainly not one with so high a rank. He didn't think he liked it. But heard amidst the fray of survivors chanting, 'Princess Arya' the effect was overwhelming.

Gendry rushed out of the great hall. Princess Arya. Azor Ahai. Bringer of the Dawn. Killer of the Night King. The princess that was promised. Warrior of legend. He leaned against the wall and tried to pull his thoughts together. He slumped down into the mud. A corpse lay next to him. Its neck was twisted unnaturally so its head sat upright against the wall. Arya was a warrior from prophecy. Songs would be sung in her honor. She would be hailed with honor for the rest of her days. And who was Gendry, but a king's lowborn bastard?

He knocked his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. It was cold, but he barely felt it. The sun was warm on his face. The sun he only lived to see because of Arya. He shut his eyes.

He loved her. He knew that from the first moment she appeared in his forge. He _loved_ her. And he could never have her. It had been what stopped him all those many years ago. She wanted him to come with her to Winterfell. She wanted to be his family, but he knew he would never be allowed to stay with her. She would be married off to some highborn lord and Gendry would be alone again.

Being King Robert's bastard son had given him hope. He could prove himself. He could get legitimized. Become someone worthy of marrying her. No one could stand in their way then. He flirted shamelessly with her in the weeks past. And _she'd_ flirted back. And then when she'd… gods.

He'd been so glad he had the forethought to bathe before taking her staff to her. When he'd gone, he had a mind to confess himself to her. To explain why he'd turned away from her all those years ago. That it wasn't because he didn't care for her, but because he had cared for her too much. He couldn't bear the thought of one day becoming nothing to her. She had other things on her mind. And Gendry was all too happy to help her get them off.

He couldn't help but feel like they were right where they had been with the Brotherhood all over again. No matter how high Gendry fought to climb to a level worthy of her, she was always going to be just out of reach. Princess Arya. He was no prince.

Gendry didn't know when he'd fallen asleep. He absolutely didn't remember moving from the wall to a bed. Certainly not one so soft. So warm. Gendry snuffled and rolled. His hand touched another body and for a moment he was still fighting. Gendry searched for his weapon, reeling backwards out of the bed. He let out a shout when the shadowy body on the bed began to move.

"Come on, Gendry." Arya's tired voice said. "Get back in bed."

Gendry sat on the floor, squinting through the darkness. When had it gotten so dark again? He wrestled his legs free of the blankets and stood up. He had no weapon. He had no clothes. Only a new undershirt covering him.

"Hey," Arya's voice insisted. "They're gone. The battle's over."

"Arya?" Gendry breathed. Gendry shook his head slowly. "_Princess _Arya." He corrected, remembering.

Something sailed across the room and smacked him in the face. He caught it as it dropped. She'd flung a pillow at him. He looked up at her, his eyes adjusting to the darkness at last. Arya was glaring at him. The way she had the first time he'd ever called her 'M'lady' when they were traveling the King's Road with Yoren.

"I'm not a princess. Don't call me that." She bit.

"As you wish, Your Highness." Gendry said seriously.

Another pillow came soaring at him, but he dodged that one. He laughed at her for a half second before she pounced. They went down in a tangle of limbs. Arya jabbed her little fists into his sides. It hurt more than it used to, but he still laughed. He wrested Arya's wrists into one of his hands, unsurprised when she brought her knee up in response. Gendry twisted his crotch away at the last second.

"Is this how you killed the Night King, then?" Gendry laughed.

"I killed _him_ with a dagger. Don't you make me use it on you, too!" She howled.

Gendry dropped his head back and looked up at her. The wound on her forehead had been stitched up. Her hair was messy. She'd never tied it back up after the hot springs. Gendry slipped his hand from where it was holding her knee back and cupped her face.

"I saw the Red Woman." Arya blurted suddenly.

Gendry dropped both hands, releasing her face and hands. Arya sat up, she was still straddling his belly and looking down at him, but the moment was gone. Gendry set to memorizing her face. He didn't know how many more opportunities he'd have to do that.

"I hope she left the leeches at Dragonstone."

"She's dead now." Arya announced.

Gendry frowned. "You? Or…?"

"Neither. The way Ser Davos tells it, she just blew away in the wind."

"That's unsettling."

Arya shifted over him. His cock twitched eagerly in response. Gendry clenched his jaw. Determined not to make a fool of himself.

"We have to go to King's Landing."

Gendry squinted at her. "We do?"

Arya nodded. "Cersei's still on the iron throne. She won't be staying there."

Gendry sighed. Didn't they deserve a break? "Suppose you'll be killing the Mad Queen next. Really giving the Kingslayer a run for his money."

Arya barked out a short laugh. He grinned. "You don't have to come." She told him.

Gendry's smile fell. He sat up, knocking Arya back into his lap. "What do you mean? Do you not want me to go?" Anger appeared in him out of nowhere. "I may not have killed the bloody Night King, but I held my own just as well as anyone out there. You think I'd be here if I weren't a fighter? I was on the frontlines. I stood and fought in the Vanguard. I was among the first to have to deal with those fuckers."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather go to Storm's End? Restart your family line?"

Gendry pulled back. "What are you on about?"

Arya smiled at him. "As far as I know, you're the last Baratheon. Sort of makes you a lord, doesn't it?"

Gendry was shaking his head. "I'm a bastard. That doesn't make me anything."

Arya wriggled her hips down against his growing erection. Gendry sucked in a breath between his teeth. His hands gripped her hips. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"Ramsay Bolton was Ramsay Snow before his father legitimized him. He was Lord of Winterfell before my brother and sister killed him."

"Mm…" Gendry was trying to focus. Her hands were petting over his neck and chest. "I'm not legitimized. My father's dead."

"I happen to be good friends with a few high lords and ladies. I don't know if you heard about it. I sort of saved the world. Turns out, any one of them would be very much inclined to give me anything I ask for."

"Why would you do that?" Gendry moved a hand down to her thigh. She was wearing only her undershirt, same as him. It made it easy for him to find her sex. She was already wet. It made Gendry's cock impossibly harder.

"Why else?" She asked, her eyelids fluttering at his touch. "I want to call you My Lord and see how you like it." Gendry dipped a finger into her warmth. She moaned low. "Or maybe My Prince. You'd be next in line after Daenerys and Jon."

"You aren't first in line now?" Gendry teased. He set his other hand at her breast, teasing the nipple through the thin fabric. "Thought saving the world would give you the best seat."

Arya let out a breathy laugh. "Iron Throne isn't the best seat. My father said it was the most uncomfortable chair in the realm."

"Hm. Melt it down. Make something cozier." Gendry suggested.

Arya's breath grew shakier, her hands clenched at his shoulders. Another moan slipped through her sealed lips. "If… if only I knew a smith." She sighed. "T-to melt it down for me."

"Oh, no. I'm going to be a Lord. The Illiterate Lord of Storm's End doesn't have time for melting down iron thrones." Gendry teased.

Arya let out a gasp as her whole body shuddered over him. Gendry pulled his hand away and tilted his head to find her lips. Arya gripped his face between her hands and kissed him hard. She reached between them and her hand gripped Gendry's stiff cock.

"The Illiterate Lord has time for whatever I say he's got time for." Arya said, her voice strong.

Gendry kissed her again. "As M'lady commands." He agreed. Although he would have agreed to have his eyes pecked out by crows in that moment. The way she was working her hips was sapping away any and all of his sense.

He gripped both her thighs just before he came and hoisted her off of him. He spilled himself onto the stone floor, gasping against Arya's mouth. He lay back on the floor, panting. Arya was frowning down at him.

"What did you do that for?" She asked.

Gendry had no idea what she meant. He honestly couldn't think about anything at the moment.

"What'd I do what?" He mumbled.

Arya pointed at his mess on the floor. "You didn't do that last night."

Gendry hummed. "Wasn't worried about fathering any bastards last night."

"None of my children would ever be bastards." Arya said solemnly.

Gendry shut his eyes and nodded. "I suppose any child born of Azor Ahai would have to be legitimized."

Arya was quiet. Pensive. She used to talk all the time. Anything that popped into her head she would blurt out. Now, she thought quietly. A part of Gendry wished she was still that chattering little girl he had met. Back before he knew her true name.

He sat up again, suddenly. "Do you_ want_ children?"

Arya looked at him, her eyes cool and steady. "I have a few names left."

Gendry swallowed, his heart quickening. "But after. When you finished? You want a family?"

Arya rolled her eyes at him. "I _have_ a family."

"Arya…." He needed her to say… something.

"I do. I have Jon, Sansa, Bran, and you." She said. "But a pack can always get bigger."

Gendry felt himself smiling. Then he felt himself crying. Was he really so happy? She touched his face tenderly.

"You want to be my family, right?" She asked more hesitantly. "Because you didn't before."

"I did. I do. I always have. Always. But I wasn't a wolf. I didn't think I'd be allowed."

"Anyone can learn to howl."

Chapter 2: Side A for Arya

His hand disappeared from her neck. Shattered around her like glass. Arya caught herself on her knee and looked up. Bran met her eyes calmly. So hauntingly calmly. Around them, the Others began to collapse. One after the other.

Bran said nothing. The only sound was the wind and even that died down shortly. Arya sat back on her butt. The Weirwood tree stood tall behind Bran. The face set in the white bark looking so much like the faces in the House of Black and White. The leaves as red as blood.

The Night King was gone. The battle was over. A battle that she had been training for her whole life without ever knowing it. It washed over her like a storm washes over a ship on the seas. She had known from the first time she watched the boys training that she had to train too. She knew when she picked up Bran's forgotten bow in the yard and could do nothing more than practice over and over without anyone else to guide her.

Everyone who had died. Everyone she loved and mourned, they all died because they had to. Her father and Syrio had to die so she would have to flee the city with Yoren and meet Jaqen H'Ghar. Yoren had to die so she would stay in the south. Her mother and brother had to die so she would go to Braavos and not Winterfell. Beric had to die so she would have time to do what needed to be done. Melisandre had told her all those years ago that her destiny was death.

Arya felt a strange numbness coming over her. A deeper numbness than she had ever felt in the House of Black and White. She may as well have been blind all over again for as much as she was seeing. She sat on a bed of snow and ice, but she couldn't feel the cold. She could only feel… numb.

Theon was dead. His death was on her, too. She hadn't been quick enough. Nowhere near quick enough. A few seconds and he would have lived. But he had to die to give her a few seconds more. If she had been any later, Bran's death would be on her hands as well.

Her head was spinning. She remembered cracking it open. The blood still leaked from the wound. She didn't feel pain or exhaustion. She knew she should. She should feel a sense of pride at the very least. She had looked the King of Death in the eyes and she had slain him. But there was no pride. There was no pain. There was nothing.

"..ya. Arya. Arya, look at me!" She was being shaken. Hands were on her shoulders. "Arya!"

Right. That was her name. Arya Stark. She was Arya Stark of Winterfell. She was a wolf. A dire wolf. She blinked slowly and finally registered Jon's face inches away from hers. He was filthy. There was mud and blood speckled across his face. His brow was drawn up in concern.

"What happened?" He asked. Arya stared at him mutely. Jon turned his head away. "Bran?"

"She did as she was always meant to do. She is Azor Ahai. The sun rises because she willed it." Bran said cryptically.

"Arya, did you kill him?" Jon pressed.

Arya stared at him. Shouldn't that be obvious? If she had failed, they wouldn't be having this conversation. Was it a conversation if she didn't say anything back?

"Eight years ago, that dagger was meant to kill me." Bran announced from his chair.

Jon picked up her catspaw dagger from where she'd dropped it. Jon looked from the dagger to Arya. He turned it in his hands.

"That blade sits at the root of the war."

"This killed the Night King?" Jon said, examining it. "A Valyrian steel dagger?"

"Wielded by someone who knows exactly where the heart is." Bran confirmed.

Jon pulled on her until she was standing. Her legs shook with the effort, but she refused to fall. Jon kept his hands on her to keep her steady. She didn't need them. She could stand alone. Jon left her to push Bran's chair. Her eyes fell back on the Weirwood.

The face stared back at her. The faces in the House of Black and White had never stared. They kept their eyes shut respectfully. The Old God saw her. The Old God had _always_ seen her. All the gods had. They had conspired to make her what she was.

Jon called out to her again. They were a few feet away now. Arya tore her eyes from the Weirwood. The shattered ice of the Night King's body crunched beneath her feet. Better shattered glass than rotting corpse. There were enough of those littered throughout Winterfell. She could see them as she walked. Too many to count. All of them on her hands.

She felt Cat's Paw on her hip. She didn't remember taking it back from Jon, but she must have done. It was snug in its sheath where it always sat. Needle wasn't with her. She had kept it in her room. The sword would have been of no use to her that night anyway. She used the staff Gendry had made her. It had worked better. Until she'd lost it.

Her stomach rolled. Did that mean she had lost Gendry too? Would she get back to wherever they were headed and find his blood soaking into the snow? She should have moved faster. It should have been her sent to guard Bran. She should have volunteered at once, but she had been selfish and prideful. She wanted to be on the frontline. They wouldn't permit her in the Vanguard, but she would not cower in the crypt either. She should have sucked it up and stayed with Bran.

She could hear voices. Familiar voices. She could hear them but she couldn't listen to them. She was too busy counting the blood. Movement came from her left and she felt Jon being pulled away. Her hand went to the hilt of her dagger, but she heard laughter. She dropped her hand and went back to counting.

A hand landed on her shoulder and Arya shied away from it. Jon bent his head close to her. It had been him that had touched her. Her brother. Not a Wight.

"It's over, Arya. You did it. It's over now." He assured her.

Arya nodded, but she couldn't help but wonder if it really was over. Did the gods have any more secret plans in store for her? If they felt Jon or Bran were becoming hindrances to their plans would they kill them, too? She felt like a puppet that just saw its strings.

Arms were around her. Holding her tight. Not too tight. The arms were weak. She took a small breath. The scent was sweet. Sansa's perfumes, though sweat could also be smelled. Arya lifted her arms and returned the hug as best she could. Her sister said something in her ear, but Arya could only feel her sister's tears on her cheek and the slight tremble that went through her long, thin body. Residuals from her earlier fear, Arya guessed.

Sansa disappeared from her. Arya blinked hard and tried to focus her eyes. A large hand settled on her shoulder, delicate as a bird. She blinked up at the man and felt her eyes heat. His face was tired and dirty. He looked no worse off than when she'd left him an hour ago. His eyes were filled with unshed tears. Beric.

"I didn't want him to die for me. I took him off." Arya explained. As strange as it was, the Hound and Lord Beric were friends. It wasn't easy for the Hound to make friends. Not everyone understood him. And Arya had stolen one of his only friends away. Her and her damned destiny.

To her shock and dismay, the Hound smiled at her. "It was him that chose to die for you. And with good reason."

_No, no. Don't absolve me this. Not you_. She thought.

"Don't go getting kind on me again." The Hound grumbled in a thick voice.

Arya remembered the farmer and his daughter. She knew what he was telling her. _Survive_. Arya nodded at him. She would do it. She must. She couldn't feel enough to do otherwise anyway.

She took a deep breath and finally turned her eyes to the survivors. She knew the faces if not their names. The Dragon Queen and her advisor, Brienne, her squire, and the Kingslayer, the Imp, Jon's wildling friend, and…. The icy shell of numbness cracked. Gendry. Her heart squeezed.

Gendry smiled at her and lifted something in his hand. It took her a second to register what it was. Half of her spear. He'd found it for her. It wasn't lost. He wasn't lost. Her relief was incredible. A wash of some emotion creeping in through the cracks in her empty shell. She felt her mouth lift into what may have passed for a smile.

"Is that for me?" Her voice was strange. She didn't recognize it. Had she sounded like that when she spoke to the Hound? She couldn't remember.

Gendry shook his head and smiled lazily. "What do you need a weapon like this for?"

_You_. She thought. _I need it because you made it for me_.

She looked beyond him. Other survivors were sifting through the piles of corpses. Looking for loved ones and friends and familiar faces. She didn't know when she'd stopped her counting or how high the number had gotten.

"How many did we lose?" She asked in a voice that sounded much more like her own. Strong as a bear and calm as still water.

The Dragon Queen shook her head. She was a mess as well. "That is tomorrow's problem."

Arya looked again at the heaps of corpses. They outnumbered the living at any rate. They were talking amongst themselves. Or maybe they were talking to her. She couldn't be bothered to check. One of the corpses on the pile was a woman no older than herself. Her eyes were empty, her neck ripped apart savagely. The cold eyes stared into Arya so deep she could feel the empty numbness rising up to protect her.

She didn't want to be numb anymore. It was sapping her away piece by piece. She knew if she didn't do something soon there would be nothing of her left. She needed to do something. She needed to _feel_ something. If she didn't, she knew she would truly become no one. Nothing.

She took a step. It wasn't certain. A part of herself was afraid to let go of the numbness. She took another, keeping her eyes on Gendry though he had looked away. Her confidence built as she moved. Her determination came back to her. She slid her hand into Gendry's and pulled him after her.

He looked surprised, but he didn't say a word in objection. He followed her easily. Seemed like he was through taking the long road. Where she bid him, he would go.

Arya looked up at the castle as she walked. Stones were burnt away. Melted by dragon fire. Like Harrenhal. Other towers had been collapsed completely. The tower that housed her bedroom still stood, but she wouldn't walk those halls again. Not yet. Not until the empty numbness was away from her.

For now, the castle no longer looked or felt like home. The halls she had once walked through confidently and easily. She remembered skipping through the castle and racing down the walkways with Bran at her heels. But those same walkways were painted red with blood now. The same hallway she once played in was the very same in which she had almost died.

Arya led Gendry down into the bowels of the castle. Down to the hot springs she had told him about once or twice when he'd expressed concern over the northern chill. She wondered if he remembered that. She didn't say anything to him and he didn't say anything in return. She was grateful that. She didn't have words just yet.

The hot springs sat relatively untouched. Too hot for the White Walkers' taste she supposed. It was a wonder they hadn't thought to hide away the noncombatants there. Although the entrances to the cave were many and hard to defend. There was only one way in or out of the crypt. Easily guarded.

Arya set to peeling off her clothes. In some places they were wet with blood. In others, mud or ice. The sole of one of her boots had been torn away from the leather. Arya stripped it all away until she stood naked. She was filthy and bloody and likely looked like something from a nightmare. That must have been the reason Gendry was just staring at her like that.

Arya stepped down into the pool. The water was warm. It pulled at her muscles and took away some of the ache she hadn't been aware of until that moment. Gendry was still standing fully clothed. Arya began to doubt herself. Last night had been different. She wasn't stupid. Maybe the only reason he had agreed to lie with her was because he thought it was his last few hours, too.

She leaned back against the far side of the pool and shut her eyes. He could leave if he wanted. She was adaptable. She would adapt to the empty numbness around her. Maybe someday she would feel again.

The water rippled as Gendry lowered himself into the pool. She kept her eyes shut. She could feel her right eye swelling. He was moving. The water lapped against her as he went. She tried to remember what she was like before. Before the Night King and his army. Before The House of Black and White. Before Braavos and the Hound. Even before Gendry and King's Landing. What had she been like before her father's head rolled away from his body? She couldn't remember.

Gendry's hand settled on the crook of her neck. Something touched her face. She blinked her eyes open. Gendry was so close to her. She could see how blue his eyes were in the low glow of the hot springs. He cleaned her face, apologizing when his rag snagged the cut in her forehead. He looked serious.

Arya pulled the rag from his hand and set to wiping the filth from his face in turn. His eyes flickered shut. She touched his cheek. If she wanted rid of this aching numbness she needed to feel good. She had never felt so good as when she had lain with him. Kissed him. Felt his skin bare against hers. She pressed her lips against his waiting for him to push her away.

Gendry's arms went around her. He pulled her flush against him and deepened their kiss. Arya gasped in relief. He wanted it. Wanted _her_. She held his face to hers, kissing him as she felt the layer of icy numbness crack and fall away from her. Melting in the heat of the hot springs and their kisses. Tears came unbidden. She couldn't stop them. She could only keep Gendry kissing her so he wouldn't see.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, clinging to him in desperation. She worked herself over him frantically. Desperate to feel good again. To stop her seemingly endless tears. Gendry must have understood. She didn't say a word. She didn't try to explain any of it to him, he just knew.

She let out a gasp as she came that turned into a horrible sob that ripped through her up from her belly. A sob that she had buried deep. So deep she forgot it was there for years. But now it broke free. It was a sob that had started at the Sept of Baelor and followed her through every struggle and terror she survived. It echoed through the cavern and came back to her.

Gendry moved them back so he could lean against the wall of the pool. She shook as more sobs erupted from her. Try as she might, she couldn't settle them back. Her whole body trembled. She wrapped her arms around her body to keep herself from physically falling apart. Gendry's strong hands ran up and down her back gently. His voice was in her ear, hushing her and whispering soothing nonsense to her.

"I thought I was going to die." She gasped out between sobs. But that didn't begin to cover all the things she had felt. All the things she feared. Melisandre had had more words for her all those years ago.

"_I see a darkness in you_."

Darkness. How dark? How deep inside her? She hadn't lied. She really had thought she was going to die. It was a thought she'd had so often that it rarely scared her anymore. It was _his_ death that petrified her. His or Sansa's or Jon's or Bran's. She wasn't afraid of Death. Not for herself. She was afraid that he would take away everyone else she cared for and leave her alive but alone. Swimming in the darkness alone.

"I know. I was scared, too." Gendry murmured back to her. He kissed the top of her head and she became acutely away of how disgusting her hair must be.

Arya knew that. She knew the day before when they'd spoken of the Others. She saw true fear in his eyes when she pressed. That worried her even more than the impending doom. The man who fears losing has already lost.

Arya let out a shaky breath, glad when it didn't turn into another sob. "I'm so tired, Gendry." She admitted. Everything in her deflated. She couldn't cry anymore. Her body was beleaguered. His, too, she'd imagine.

"I'm sure there's a bed somewhere that's not been destroyed." He assured her. "If not, those grain sacks were actually pretty comfortable."

The levity of his comment startled a laugh out of her. The laugh startled more and her amazement that she could still laugh brought tears anew. This time, tears of relief. She could feel Gendry's chest rumbled with his own laughter. His fingers were snared in her hair. His face pressed against her head.

She suddenly felt disgusting. Battle soiled. She pushed away from him and dunked her head under water. She swam over to the bucket and soap and set to work ridding herself of the blood and filth. She tried to ignore the twist in her gut at the knowledge that not all the blood was hers. Some was even Beric's.

The blood and muck swirled in the water along with the soap before disappearing altogether. A part of Arya longed to disappear with it. A part growing smaller with every minute she spent with Gendry. She imagined bits of the icy shell vanishing with the blood.

The black stone stood high above her. She turned onto her back and stared up at it. _I see a darkness in you_. Melisandre's words echoed in her mind again. She had killed the Freys and felt pride. She knew that justice had been dealt. Why did she not feel prideful now? Why was she filled with so much pain?

Arya turned onto her belly and looked at Gendry. He was wearing that pained look he got whenever he was thinking too hard. His eyes were heavy. Tired. He'd seen her injuries. Tended to her hurts. Did he have any of his own? She hadn't been of a mind to check. Now she moved over to him.

"Are you alright?" She asked, her voice still raw from crying.

His eyes snapped to hers. He looked almost startled to see her there. He gave her a worn smile and touched her cheek. "Me? You're the one that single handedly saved the world. I should be asking you." His jape was just as forced as his thick voice. He very well might have passed out right then and there in the pool. Arya knew she was nowhere near strong enough to pull him out alone.

"I think the steam is getting to you." She told him. Many people had succumbed over the years to the draw of the hot springs. They become comfortable and complicit. They often fell asleep during baths and drowned. Her and her siblings had never been allowed to bathe in them alone or unsupervised.

All the same, Arya didn't tug him out of the water or order him about. She stepped out on her own knowing he would undoubtedly follow her. She picked up her britches and grimaced. She wished she'd had the forethought to fetch a fresh change of clothes before they'd come to the springs. She had been so numb and thoughtless it would have been a miracle if she had.

Seeing no other option, she sighed and began to pull the dirty clothes on over her newly cleaned body. No sooner had she tucked her undershirt into her pants than she heard Gendry scrambling out of the pool behind her. She laced up her tunic and watched him dress for a second. Then, her eyes landed on her partial weapon. She snatched it up from the ground and twirled it in her hands. It would be so easy to stay down there with Gendry….

She focused on the spear. He must have found this one in the yard. The other half was likely still on the rampart where the Other had knocked it away. If the rampart still stood. If the dragon fire hadn't reached it. She turned the spear over and over. First one way then the other. It felt good to do something familiar.

Her thoughts were coming more easily now. The weight of the world was melting off her shoulders. The Night King was dead. She had seen to that. Prophecy or no, the deed was done. The dead were dead. The deaths of all she had last still stained her skin blood red, but it wasn't a new feeling. She had always felt a sense of guilt for them. The feeling was only stronger now that she knew she had, in fact, been at the core of their untimely demises. It was a strong feeling, but she was stronger.

Gendry finished dressing and stood watching her. Arya didn't look at him. She continued twirling her spear and started up the tunnel for the yard. She had to keep walking lest she fall victim to her lusts. She wondered if Gendry had found any release of his own in the hot spring. Even if she hadn't broken down like some simpering child, she wouldn't have asked. Though she probably would have been more aware of it to begin with.

"This was really good work." She said instead of asking. The silence she had welcomed earlier now threatened to strangle her. She cleared her throat. "I wish I'd managed to keep a better handle on it."

"I'll try not to hold that over your head."

There was little that Arya wanted to do more than find a bed or those grain sacks and use Gendry just as she used her bow or her sword. Use him until her body shook with pleasure and he lay spent beneath her. Worse. She wanted to love him.

Gendry didn't love her. Or maybe he did. He wanted her, of course. That much was easy to see. Arya had seen the lustful gazes of men and women alike a thousand times over. It was easy to recognize. Something she could see even without her sight. Love was different. Everyone wore it differently. And she had been mistaken too many times to trust her eyes on that matter.

She felt like she they were back in the cave with the Brotherhood. Arya had risked her heart with him once before. The first time she'd ever felt it break. Was she really going to put it out on the line again? Had she learned nothing? She could feel the blood in her ears the same as if she were still fighting the Others. Fighting for her life.

"Maybe you can make me a new weapon. I don't really need dragon glass anymore." She tried to make her voice as indifferent as possible. Her words were the same as they had been before.

_Stay with me. Stay and smith. Be my family._

But his words were the same, too.

"What happened to Needle?"

_Say you love me_, she begged.

_I don't_. Was his reply.

"Nothing." She both answered his question and ordered herself. Show him nothing. No more tears. "You don't need to make me anything else I suppose."

She would not let him weaken her. She would not be pulled down by his rejection again. She knew he did not love her. She had known before she raised the question. His words were only a confirmation of that.

Nonetheless, she wanted the numbness back. She had used him to make her feel again. To chip away the empty, icy numbness covering her in the aftermath. The pain to her heart was acute. Stabbing. She walked to the hall to escape it. As she approached, she slipped the spear into her belt.

The chatter inside was loud and cheerful. Arya did not feel loud or cheerful. She could hear men pounding the tables. People were singing songs of ancient victories. They were so happy. Had she ever been that happy? She thought not.

She debated leaving. Her battle was won. Her love had gone to sour. Her sibling needed her no longer. What's more, they must have certainly realized by now what her destiny meant. That their father was dead because of her. Their mother, Robb, and Rickon had all found early graves because of her destiny. Her damned destiny. If not for her, their father would still be seated in his large chair at the center of the head table. His laughter would still be heard amongst the rest of the men. She had taken everything from them. They would hate her now.

Gendry stepped around her and pushed the door open. Taking away her chance to run. She steeled herself. Gendry took her hand and led her inside. The chatter had died. Even the barest whisper of celebration died on the lips of the survivors as she continued into the hall.

Gendry pulled her forward to stand before the head table. Father's chair sat empty at the middle of the table. She could almost see his ghost seated there. Arya had been right. They had figured it the same as her. Ned Stark had died because of her and that prophecy.

Jon, Sansa, and Daenerys rose from their seats to look down at her. They were all grim. Even the Dragon Queen who had no cause to love Ned Stark, the man who aided in her family's demise. Arya pulled her emotions around her like a cloak. She would be No One. They couldn't hurt No One.

"My good people of the North," Daenerys started grandly. "May I present the lady, Arya Stark."

_No One. I am No One._

"Bringer of the Dawn and savior of mankind." Sansa rang out.

Arya kept her expression blank. She didn't know this game.

"It was she and she alone that slayed the Night King and led us out of the Long Night." Jon added.

"Azor ahai." Bran declared in his deadly calm voice. "The princess that was promised."

The hall thundered with cheers and applause even louder than before she'd entered. Fists pounded the tables. She could hear her name shouted by men and women all around her.

"Princess Arya!" The cried. "Bringer of the Dawn!"

They didn't hate her. They didn't plan to crucify her. They were cheering for her. For _her_. Like she was a fabled knight from the songs. Brienne and the Hound were at her sides urging her toward the head table. Sansa pushed her down into Father's chair. The shadow of his ghost fell over her. A plate of food filled with a lord's portion of everything was laid before her. A cup of summerwine shoved into her hand.

She ate and drank until her belly felt it might burst. She was wholly unaccustomed to the stares. She'd spent so long training to be invisible. She'd been good at being invisible. She had been an ugly youth. Arya Horseface. That's what they'd called her. Sansa and Jeyne Poole. It suited her fine. No one looked twice at a plain woman. Now they all stared with awe.

"If ever there is a request from Azor Ahai, my people will not hesitate to assist you." A lord swore to her. He might have been a Glover or a Manderly. She couldn't be sure. More followed in his wake. Men, women, great and small. They all pledged to aide her in anything Azor Ahai might need.

It was hardly more than an hour before Arya could bear the weight of her father's chair another minute. She didn't know how Jon and Sansa managed it. She excused herself with all her ancient courtesies and stepped over to the Hound's table.

"Look at this." He growled. "The legendary hero has deigned to bless me with her presence." There was no scorn behind his words. In fact, he seemed genuinely pleased to see her. "Is it me you're after? Or are you looking for you little lover boy?"

Arya eyed him with a practiced glare. "What lover boy?"

The Hound rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Your beloved bastard smith. The whiny one that follows you about like a moon eyed pup."

"We're only friends." _He doesn't love me_.

The Hound scoffed. "You bother telling him that?"

"What?" Jon's wildling friend said. "The stupid one? Him and the princess?"

Jaime Lannister snorted into his cup. Arya glared at the brutish wild man. He couldn't be harder to kill than the Night King.

"I wouldn't call him stupid." Tyrion piped up. "Especially not when he'd got a hammer in his hands."

The wildling cackled harder. "Even if you did, the boy would spend an hour trying to figure out what you meant!"

Arya slid the spear from where it was looped in her belt. She twirled it once and picked at the blade. The edge was jagged, but still sharp. Blood clung to the black rock. She twirled it again, this time toward the wildling. He leaned away, eyeing the weapon warily.

"What's that?" Brienne asked.

"A spear."

"Short for a spear." Jaime Lannister observed.

"There's another half to it. I lost it fighting off some of those dead men. But it works like a dream half or whole. Gendry's always had fine work." She looked over at the wild man. She arched a brow at him. "Did you make your axe yourself?"

The man frowned. "I can use it just fine all the same."

Arya smirked at him. "Well, we all have our talents. Some of us more than others."

The wildling turned red, but couldn't find words to respond. Arya twirled the spear in her hand once more before slipping it back into her belt and sitting between him and the Hound. The wild man cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.

"I know the lad's a fighter. Me and him held the gate together. We went beyond the Wall together. I trust the boy in a fight. That's not where he's stupid."

"What the fool means to say is the boy don't always catch your meaning beyond your words." The Hound offered, fixing the red man with a heavy glare.

"He's smarter than most of the men I know." Arya said evenly.

"All men are idiots." Brienne declared dryly.

"I beg your pardon, Ser Brienne, but I happen to have the mind of a scholar. Anyone would say so. The queen herself has praised my mind." Tyrion argued.

"Certainly, dear brother, but you _are_ only half a man." Jaime Lannister japed.

Tyrion scowled as the table erupted in laughter. Arya could just barely hear him mutter, "Sister fucker" amid the laughter.

Arya waited until Jaime lifted his cup to hips mouth before speaking. "Why _did_ you fuck your sister?" She fought a triumphant grin as the Kingslayer choked on his wine. "I mean, I understand loving your siblings. I love Jon and Bran fiercely and I would – and have killed any who tried to harm them, but…. I honestly can't imagine fucking either one of them."

The table was howling with laughter. Jaime's face was a unique shade of red. Arya felt victorious. She had long despised the Lannisters. They had done more to wrong her family than anyone else. Still, neither of Cersei's brothers had ever made her list.

"You certainly have a filthy mouth for a lady." Tyrion mused. "And for a princess… well…."

"I'm not a princess." She said though the hall still echoed with cheers for Princess Arya, Bringer of the Dawn.

"You are that." The Hound growled. "Just one more reason that stupid bastard smith isn't worthy of you."

"You said it best, Clegane," Tyrion said, "Prince Gendry."

"Being a king's bastard don't make him no prince." The Hound snapped.

"Gendry makes a better prince than Joffrey." Arya said sourly.

"The boar that gutted Robert Baratheon made a better prince than Joffrey." The Hound reasoned. "Don't mean I'd ever bend the knee to a pig."

Arya slammed her hands down flat on the table. She stood up with a huff. Gendry may not love her, but she loved him. She'd be damned if she let anyone get away with calling him a pig.

"Go fuck yourself." She spit before storming outside.

It was bright. Early in the afternoon. The sun was high overhead. The clouds were gone from the sky. It was almost as blue as the sky in the south. She hadn't noticed before. There were too many other things on her mind to notice things like the weather.

People were sorting through the corpses. When they saw her they bowed their heads in deference. Arya hated it. And she loved it. She didn't know what to do with herself. She could try and help sort the corpses. But it reminded her too much of the House of Black and White. She wondered if anyone had found Beric's body yet. Her skin went cold at the memory.

"Boy's going to freeze to death." A woman muttered nearby.

"How'd you know he's not dead already?" A man challenged.

Arya turned toward them to see what they were talking about. Her breath caught at the sight of Gendry sleeping slumped against the wall. He was surrounded by corpses. The way he looked she had to work to remind herself that he wasn't dead.

The man and woman shrank away from him as she moved closer. They bowed and mumbled Azor Ahai before quickly scurrying away. Arya stared down at Gendry. It wasn't until she saw his chest move up and down with a breath that she realized that was what she had been waiting for. She looked around. There was no one to help her and she couldn't carry him on her own. She didn't want to wake him. He deserved sleep after the Long Night. They all did.

Arya sat down in the mud beside him. Gendry had always had little trouble falling asleep wherever he was. Caves, forests, pigsties. She envied him that. Arya had trouble sleeping in her featherbed.

A cold breeze snapped through the yard. She'd wake him before it got dark. The woman was right. It was still winter. Anyone could very well die from sleeping outside. Northerner or not.

Arya laid her head on Gendry's shoulder. She felt him turn his face into her hair. She watched people flow in and out of the hall and around the yard. What few horses remained pulled carts laden with the dead piled up like sacks of grain. A few stonemasons and carpenters had already started to repair parts of the castle. There was a lot to be done. Bodies needed burning. Grain stocks needed to be counted. The armies needed replenishing.

Arya could have helped. In theory. She wasn't eating or sleeping or too wounded to move. But her body was worn. The idea of getting to her feet again felt like the worst kind of punishment. And it felt so nice to have Gendry beside her.

Some time later, the Hound emerged from the hall. He squinted against the sunlight and grimaced at the corpses. Arya watched him quietly. She kept her head nestled squarely on Gendry's shoulder. The Hound turned around and took a step back, then another, squinting up at the broken castle. He frowned at one of the windows. He dropped his gaze and found hers.

The Hound took them in with a heavy frown. Arya hadn't forgiven him for his pig statement. Then the Hound gave a rueful smile and took a step closer. Arya's eyes followed him. He nodded at Gendry.

"If he wasn't asleep, that boy'd probably wet himself with joy the way you're pressed up against him."

Arya tilted her left eyebrow at him. "You might be surprised."

The Hound scowled down at her. "Gods, I liked you better when you were trying to kill me."

Arya gave a small shrug. The best she could manage under Gendry's dead weight. "I've never liked you."

The Hound let out a short laugh. "You're feeling better now. Looked like an Other yourself this morning." He squinted down at her. "You sleep yet?" Arya shook her head. "Not planning to sleep there, are you? Like him?"

"I didn't want to wake him."

The Hound scoffed and rolled his eyes. Arya pressed her shoulder into Gendry's chest. He sighed into her hair. The Hound groaned and waved his hand at her.

"Alright, move."

Arya frowned at him, but after a second, she complied. The Hound grabbed Gendry under his arms and slung him over his shoulder. Arya worried that he had woken him as gruffly as the Hound had handled him, but Gendry was out like a candle.

Arya led the Hound into the castle to her tower. One of the few that remained intact. She shut down her emotions as she crossed hallways that she had raced down the night before frantically escaping the army of the dead. The Hound was watching her. She could feel his scrutinizing stare.

She brought them to her room and opened the door. The windows were cracked and rock dust covered everything, but the bed still stood and everything remained untouched. She pointed the Hound to the bed and he dropped Gendry onto his back unceremoniously. The Hound stretched his neck.

"Alright," he said, "you find a bed, too."

Arya went to her trunk and pulled out Needle. It was just where she left it. Arya nodded at the bed.

"I have one." She slid her spear from her belt and set it on her dresser before doing the same with Cat's Paw.

"Oh no, Princess. I'm not leaving you to bed down with this one."

Arya arched her eyebrow again. "Princess." She scoffed. "I can kill the Night King, but I can't have a man in my bed. Is that it?" She challenged.

"Yes, that's it. You're –"

"Get out."

"You listen here, girl –"

"Girl, now? It was just 'princess.'" Arya walked toward him, he stepped back. "You should go find a bed, too. You've slept about as much as I have." Arya nodded toward the door. "Go. Sleep. I'll do the same."

The Hound looked like he was going to argue further, but Arya would hear none of it. She pushed him from the room and shut the door. The second she was alone. Or, alone with a sleeping Gendry, she stripped off her ragged clothes and dug out a fresh undershirt to sleep in.

She turned for bed, but saw Gendry still clad in his dirtied clothes. She frowned. She had men's shirts. One men's shirt. The one she had worn when she'd dressed as Walder Frey. She dug it out of her dresser and looked at it. It would be a bit short on him, but it was clean.

She set to pulling off his clothes, started with his boots and moving to his shirts. She did so like his body. Rippling with all those hard won muscles. She pulled the clean shirt over his head and tugged his arms through the sleeves. She was working at the ties on his pants when Gendry let out a hum.

"Arya," he sighed.

Arya froze. For a split second she thought he might have woken up. Her hands stilled in their work. Her fingers still twisted in the ties.

"Gendry?" She whispered hesitantly.

Gendry smiled at her voice and sighed again. "Arry."

Arya finished pulling his pants from him and covered him with the blanket. She set all of their clothes together in a pile. There would be a buildup of laundry in the coming weeks that was for certain. She rounded the bed and crawled under the covers.

She rolled into Gendry's side and listened to his heart beat. He was warm. Safe. Alive. For the first time, she felt proud of herself. She had killed the Night King. _She_ had saved the world. Everyone was still alive because of her.

"Love you," Gendry murmured, rolling toward her. "Love you, Arya."

Arya's heart leapt and squeezed and twisted. _He really is stupid_, she thought, nestling herself against him.

"I love you, too." She answered, knowing he wouldn't remember.


	2. Left Us Broken

Left Us Broken

**GENDRY**

He should've just let that arrow hit him. He _wished_ that arrow had hit him. He had been given so much. A name. A title. A home of his own. And not just a home. A bloody castle! Just… _given_ to him. Like it was nothing. But he was a lord now. And lords had the power to choose. And he chose Arya.

But she didn't choose him.

Gendry slammed his fist into the stone wall barely feeling it when his knuckles burst and began to bleed. He slammed his fist into the wall again. He was so _stupid_. Stupid stupid stupid. He turned and pushed his back against the wall and slid down it.

Fuck a lordship. Fuck a castle. Fuck Arya fucking Stark.

Gendry felt guilty for thinking it before he'd even finished the thought. It was his fault, really. He should have known better. He _did _know better. Just because she _looked_ like a lady didn't mean that was what she wanted. She was beautiful. She killed the Night King. She saved the world. _That's_ who Arya Stark was. Not a wife.

Still… he had hoped she loved him. He thought she did. The way she'd acted the night before he was sure. None of the girls he'd been with before had ever kissed him like _that_. Like their whole life depended on him kissing them back. She had gone to him. She'd chosen him and she could've chosen anybody. That had to mean… something.

"You get into a fight withou' me?"

Gendry craned his head up to look at Tormund Giantsbane wobbling over him. He stunk of wine and that disgusting fermented goats milk he liked to drink so much. Gendry's eyes still felt hot from pain and embarrassment. He looked away.

"Not really."

Tormund leaned his head against the wall and stared blearily down at him. Gendry tried not to show how uncomfortable he was.

"You're a lord now." Tormund slurred. "Like Lord Snow." That made the wildling chuckle. "Goin' to ride a dragon like him?"

"No I'm not going to ride a dragon!" Gendry snapped.

Tormund frowned. "Afraid, Lordy Loo?"

"Ah, shut it. I'm not a lord."

Tormund used his forehead to push himself off the wall. Gendry watched as the big man teetered precariously. After a beat, the wildling stood upright.

"That silver queen says you are. Thought you were happy about it. You even smiled." Tormund pointed at his face. "First time I seen you smile."

"Yeah, well, all that doesn't matter now does it?"

Tormund frowned. "Doesn't matter? You forget we fought off those White Walkers together? We survived the Long Night together, you and me. Everything matters now." Tormund turned and slumped against the walls beside him. "'Course, I was a lot happier when death loomed over our heads. When I still had hope that the big woman would be mine."

"Eh? Big woman?"

"Brienne." Tormund explained. "Beautiful woman with the strength to rival bears."

"The one with Jaime Lannister?"

Tormund growled and flung his horn against the far wall. "Fuckin' Lannister!"

Gendry leaned on his knees and tried to ignore the pain in his heart. In his gut. Everywhere.

Tormund's meaty hand dropped down on Gendry's shoulder. He jostled him roughly. "What about you? You hit someone?"

Gendry turned his hand over to look at the bloodied knuckles. His hand looked garish. He flexed his fingers, wincing as he tried to pull them into a fist. Punching the wall was stupid. How was he supposed to hold his hammer with his hand smashed to bits? Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

"Well?"

"Huh?"

"What'd you do? Who'd you hit?"

"Oh. Uh. The wall." Gendry answered sheepishly.

Tormund tipped his head up against the wall and squinted as if expecting to see the stone broken where he'd hit. Gendry gritted his teeth. Maybe if he'd really been strong enough to crush stone beneath his fist Arya would think he was worthy of her. Maybe she'd love someone like that.

"What'd the wall do to ye?" Tormund asked seriously.

"Wasn't the wall, but it's not like I can punch myself in the face." Gendry griped.

"What? You want to be hit in the face?"

"Well, sort of feels like I al–"

Tormund slugged him on the jaw hard. His head snapped sideways so far the other side of his face hit the wall. Gendry let out a gasp and rubbed his jaw.

"Fucks sake!" Gendry shouted.

Tormund shrugged at him nonchalantly. "Man tells me he wants to be hit in the face, I hit a man in the face."

"I didn't _ask_!"

Tormund shrugged his big shoulders again and withdrew a flask of wine from somewhere in the folds of his clothes. He unscrewed the top and took a big drink before passing it to Gendry. Gendry glared at the man a few seconds more before accepting the flask and drinking deeply. They sat in silence for a while passing the flask back and forth.

"So," Tormund started. "Why'd you ask me to hit you in the face?"

"I didn't ask –" He huffed knowing full well the wildling didn't care if he asked or not. "I asked a girl to marry me, but she said no."

"You Southerners and your marriage." Tormund scoffed. "Just find a good girl to fuck and be done with it."

Gendry shook his head. "I love her."

"I love Brienne. But she's in there fucking that golden twat." Tormund chuckled. "I like that word. The Dog taught me that one. And cock." He chuckled again. "Your girl fucking some other twat then?"

"No!" Gendry said quickly. Then paused. He looked around the yard. "I don't think she would be. She's not… that kind of girl. She wouldn't do that."

"They all do that." Tormund argued.

"Not her. She wouldn't. I mean, she never had before me anyway." Gendry felt his face heating just remembering last night.

Tormund scoffed. "They all say that."

"What?"

Tormund gave him a pitied look. "There's not one girl in fifty that's untouched even if she says she is. They've all fucked and been fucked and they think that we're all too dumb to know the difference." Tormund tapped the side of his nose. "I always know."

Gendry was quiet for a second. "How do you tell the difference?"

Tormund laughed. "I've only lain with two virgins in my life, but they were both so skittish. Like they'd never seen a cock before. They take a while to warm to the idea. Mostly they just lay there whimpering while you fuck them. Non-virgins have already warmed to the idea. They don't always lie there. They take charge. Gods. I love it when they do that. Then _you_ get to be the one that sits back while they have a go."

Gendry frowned in thought. He cleared his throat. "Suppose she's just a feisty girl. She's a fighter. Someone who can kill White Walkers and murderers and rapists. What about that?"

Tormund cackled. "You've never met a wildling woman. That's all of them! They'd as soon cut your cock off as sleep with ye! It's always a gamble. Even with the virgin ones. …_Especially_ with the virgin ones."

Gendry got to his feet with no shortage of effort. He'd had a lot to drink before he'd finally found Arya. If he had to guess, he'd say he'd just drank twice that sitting with Tormund who had the magical ability to pull flasks of wine and rum and whiskey from seemingly nowhere. Gendry leaned against the wall for balance.

"You're wrong. Arry's not like that." Gendry slurred. "She wouldn't lie to me."

Tormund scoffed again. "We all lie when it suits us."

"Not her."

Gendry stumbled away from him and into the courtyard. He squinted blearily around him. Jon's dire wolf tripped over to him and licked at his bloody hand. Gendry patted the animal's thick coat absently.

He didn't know what to do with himself. He knew he'd gotten by just fine without Arya for four years when he thought she was dead and he was hiding away in King's Landing. He had done it before. Before…. If only she hadn't kissed him! He'd be able to remember what to do without her if she hadn't kissed him. He wouldn't have made such a gods damned fool of himself if she hadn't kissed him.

Stupid stupid stupid stupid _stupid_!

He stopped and looked around. Somehow he'd wandered to the main gates of Winterfell and through them. He stared out at the ash blackened snow. Before him lie the King's Road. He could take it south. Just start walking and never look back. What was the point in staying? Sure, he was meant to be fighting in the queen's war, but what was the point of that? Cersei would be killed with or without his help. And even if they took away Storm's End again what did it matter?

He heard a woman's voice speaking in a different language approaching from the gates. A man's voice answered her in the same language. Gendry sniffled against the bite of Northern cold and shuffled to the side so they could pass.

"Lord Gendry?" The woman said in the common tongue.

Gendry looked up at Missandei. He sniffed again and shook his head. "Don't call me that." _Gods I'm turning into Arya_.

Missandei looked at Torgo Nudho with confusion. "But you are Lord Gendry Baratheon now. Our queen has made it so."

Gendry's hands fisted at his sides. "Doesn't really matter, does it?"

The two foreigners were quiet. He knew they were likely exchanging sidelong glances about his ungrateful behavior. He stared at the ash piles and thought of the dead. If Arya hadn't been around he'd be just another pile of ash. Or worse. A White Walker.

"Did you lose someone?" Missandei asked carefully.

Gendry glanced at her and back out at the piles of ash. He nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I guess…." He cleared his throat. "Yes. I did." Just the love of his life.

"Maybe you should go back inside and get some rest." Missandei suggested gently.

Gendry looked back through the gate and tried not to think about who was still on the other side. Maybe he really would be better off walking back to King's Landing. He let out a heavy sigh and pushed his gloved fingers into his left eye.

"Yeah, sleep. I should probably sleep."

**ARYA**

"None of it will be worth anything if you're not with me. So be with me." Arya shoves the heels of her hands into her eyes. What did he have to go and do something stupid and propose for?

She sat in a chair by the fire in her room. The rest of the castle was asleep. She should be asleep, too, but instead Gendry and his damned proposal was sticking in her head.

"You're beautiful and I love you." He'd said.

Beautiful. Her? Arya Horseface? But Gendry said it like he meant it. Really meant it. And he loved her. Arya pulled her knee up to rest her chin on it. She didn't deserve that. He didn't know anything about what she'd done. How many people she'd killed. He didn't know and if he did he wouldn't say something stupid like he loved her.

Arya watched the sun rise slowly into the sky. He loved her, but she couldn't love him. She _did_. But she couldn't. It wasn't possible. She wasn't a lady. She wasn't going to be graceful and elegant and spend her days ordering servants about. Sit on the sidelines while the men think up war strategies. She was the savior of the realm. She would not sit idle. Not even for Gendry.

So she couldn't love him. She couldn't. And she definitely couldn't marry him. Arya glared at the fire like it had offended her.

"'Be my wife' he says," she snarled at the flames. "I'm not Sansa. I'm not taking a backseat to this war. I'm not a lady. I'm a wolf." She told the fire.

Her shoulders sagged. She wished they were back in the Riverlands. Gendry _Waters_ would have never asked her to marry him and be his wife. That was something Gendry _Baratheon_ did. Lord Gendry Baratheon. Arya preferred the bastard.

He was so happy. Excited for his new name. His new title. And why shouldn't he be? He'd lived so long with nothing. He should be happy. And who knows? Maybe some fair maiden would appear to steal away his heart and be Lady of Storm's End for him.

Something vicious and bitter rose up in her chest. She'd told Gendry as much earlier, but it left a sour taste in her mouth. She didn't want him with other girls. She covered her face again and shut her eyes. Horrible. Everything was so horrible. She couldn't be with him the way he wanted her to be and she couldn't bear the thought of him moving on.

She had work to do. She had names to cross off. The Mountain still breathed as did Cersei. And she figured she might as well cross Euron Greyjoy off, too, in honor of Theon. Maybe if she survived she could start to think –

Why the hell did he have to propose? They could've been in bed together if he hadn't been so…. Arya found Cat's Paw in her hand without remembering pulling it from her waist. She flipped it uneasily. Back and forth. Back and forth. One hand then the other and back again.

"Cersei, the Mountain, Euron. Cersei, the Mountain, Euron. Cersei, the Mountain, Euron." Arya said quietly. As long as she thought about the names, she could stop thinking about Gendry.

A knock sounded at her door. She flipped her dagger in the air and caught it up again. She eyed the door suspiciously.

"Come in." She invited.

The door creaked open and Sansa stood in the doorway. Arya turned and looked back into the fire. _The forge fires burned brighter_. Her thoughts came unbidden. _Gendry always looks best in front of the forge fires._

"Are you coming to the war council?"

Arya blinked at the floor and looked back at her sister. She didn't like Daenerys. Didn't trust her. Arya didn't know her reasons, but she trusted her sister more than a stranger.

Sansa squinted at her. "Have you slept at all?"

Arya glared at Sansa. She didn't respond. She only slipped Cat's Paw back into the sheath and stood up. She hadn't even tried to undress last night. Too many thoughts of Gendry's hands on her skin. His lips.

"You're alright?" Sansa insisted. She put her gloved hand on Arya's shoulder in an effort to be a comforting big sister. Arya shook the hand off.

"I'm fine." She snapped. "Are we going or what?"

"Wait."

Arya turned back and arched her left eyebrow at Lady Stark. Sansa pursed her lips thoughtfully. It was more a scowl than anything else. An amusing look for Arya to see on her demure sister. Scowls were decidedly _not_ ladylike. Just ask Septa Mordane.

"Can you tell me honestly?" Sansa asked.

"Can I tell you what honestly?" Arya returned, guarded.

"What do you think of the queen?"

Arya frowned thoughtfully. "Which one?"

Sansa rolled her eyes. "Ar_ya_."

"She isn't worse than Cersei. Her and her dragons saved us. Without them, I never would have gotten to the Night King." Arya sighed. "But I know you don't trust her and I trust you. You have good instincts."

Sansa seemed baffled at the admission. "But what do _you_ think of her?"

"I already told you what I think."

The war council was not the most interesting part of her day. The queen refused to wait. She wanted her throne. No matter the cost to her people. Arya didn't appreciate that. If they had done as Sansa suggested and held off just a bit, Arya could have nipped down to King's Landing and knocked the crown off Cersei's blonde head with no one the wiser. She still _could_, it would just be a bit harder now.

No. The most interesting part of her day was Jon telling them that he was really Aegon Targaryen and that their father – the honorable Ned Stark – had lied about his true parentage to protect him. Arya stayed with Bran at the Weirwood tree long after Sansa had stormed off and Jon had gone helplessly after her.

"You have choices ahead of you now." Bran announced from his chair.

"Everybody has choices ahead of them." Arya lobbed back.

"You're back at the crossroads." Bran insisted. "Which way will you go this time?"

Arya stared at her brother. He kept insisting that he wasn't really. He was the Three-Eyed Raven. Not Brandon Stark. Not her brother or the Lord of Winterfell. And Jon wasn't her brother anymore either. Was Sansa really the only sibling she had left?

Gendry had disappeared completely. She knew he was hiding from her. She also knew there was nothing she could do to make him feel better. He didn't understand. Loathe as she was to admit it, she loved him. She wished she didn't. It would make everything between them less painful. For both of them.

Arya looked at the face in the Weirwood. Two nights ago she had stood in this exact spot and plunged her dagger into the heart of the Night King. Arya let out a heavy breath and turned away from the tree. Away from Bran. Away from the North.

**SANDOR**

"Where'd you run off to after you robbed me and left me to die?" Sandor asked over their fire. Arya was skinning the rabbit she'd caught. She looked over at him evenly.

"I went to Braavos." She told him simply and returned to skinning the rabbit.

Sandor scoffed. "What'd you go there for? Hoping to find your dancing master alive and well?"

"No. I went to train with the Faceless Men." Arya set the prepared rabbit over the flame and sat back while it cooked.

Sandor frowned at her. He'd heard of the Faceless Men. Crazy assassins, the lot of them. And expensive. With good reason. Whisper a name to a Faceless Man and you had a guarantee that whatever cunt you wanted dead was six feet deep.

"You joined a bloody cult." He grunted out at last.

The corner of Arya's mouth twitched up reluctantly.

Sandor sighed. His mouth had started watering at the smell of cooking meat. "Why'd they let you go then? Too mouthy?"

Arya pulled a flask out and took a sip before tossing it to Sandor. He caught it deftly and took a big swallow. Then another. He sighed and leaned back against a rock.

"I learned what I needed. I didn't want to stay anymore."

"And they just let you go?" Sandor found that hard to believe. He hadn't been joking when he'd called them a cult.

Arya shrugged and pulled the rabbit from the fire. She pulled off a leg and handed the spit to him. Sandor accepted the rabbit, but glared at her silence nonetheless. He never thought he'd miss her unending chattering. In fact, it had been the first thing he missed after he came to at that Septon's home.

Two days later, Sandor could stand the silence no longer. If she wasn't going to talk why bother riding with him? He took a drink from his own flask and passed it over to Arya. She took a drink and handed it back.

"That smith was looking for you back at Winterfell. He ever find you?"

Sandor looked over at her. Her face was strangely blank. Like she was putting in extra effort to remain emotionless. She didn't say anything. She didn't even acknowledge that he'd said anything. He knew full well that she had heard him. They were the only two around for miles.

"Girl, if you aren't going to talk what did you follow after me for?" Sandor snapped at last.

Arya frowned. "I told you I've changed." She said in that deadened voice of hers. He hated it. Hated how lifeless she always sounded now.

"Did he do something to you?" He didn't really think the twat had it in him to do anything awful to her. Idiot that he was, the boy was hopelessly in love with her. Anyone with eyes could see that.

"Went and had himself made Lord of Storm's End I suppose."

Sandor scowled at the road ahead of them. "So? Havin' something against him now he's a lord is just the same as if you had something against him being a bastard."

Arya was quiet for a long while. Sandor wanted to rip her head off her shoulders and kick it down the road. She was more infuriating now than when she was spontaneously stabbing soldiers with his knife.

"He asked me to marry him." She said at last.

Sandor nearly fell off his horse. _Stupid fucking twat_! When he asked after Arya he hadn't thought the stupid fucking idiot meant to do something like that. It was lucky Sandor had decided to ride out on his own. He was of the mind try to beat sense into the fool. Lord or not. What kind of idiot asks a girl to marry him just like that?

"Running away then." Sandor said decisively.

"I'm not running away."

"Sure you're not." Sandor said acerbically.

"It's true. I'm going to kill Cersei. And Euron Greyjoy. And the Mountain."

Sandor felt the scars on his face prickle. "You listen here, girl, the only one's going to kill my brother is _me_. You understand? This is _my_ justice. Mine."

Arya looked at him with those steady grey eyes. He watched them dart over to the right side of his face. Assessing. She tipped her head at him in acquiescence.

They were quiet a long while after that. Three days, maybe four, passed without so much as a grunt passing between them. Sandor stopped to piss and noticed a large paw print in the mud in front of his tree. He fixed up his trousers and started back for Arya. The horses looked like they were ready to bolt. Something spooked them. Arya looked over at him when he returned.

"Wolves in the area." Sandor reported.

Arya nodded and looked out into the trees. Sandor squinted at her. She looked almost hopeful. Sandor remembered the size of the paw print. The last time he'd traveled down the road with the Stark sisters they'd both had dire wolves. The little bird's beast was slain not a day's ride up the road. Arya's had disappeared.

She said nothing, just mounted her horse again and started down the road without waiting for him. Sandor cursed and hurried after her. She rode faster after the wolves. Sandor thought that was strange seeing as how hopeful she had been to see them. Hoping that one of them was her beast most like. She pulled up at the inn at the crossroads.

"There's good food here." She told him simply. She dismounted and handed her reins to the stable boy without waiting for his input.

Sandor jumped down from his mount and dropped the reins in the stable boy's outstretched hand. He followed Arya into the inn. There weren't many people inside. In a day or two, the place would be packed with soldiers. Arya sat at a table facing the door and waited for Sandor to sit down opposite her.

Arya was looking for someone. He could see it. She was expecting someone here. That's why she was rushing. Sandor scowled. The food had better actually be good there. Not that he'd complain either way.

Suddenly, Arya's whole demeanor changed. She didn't look easily confident anymore. She almost looked… scared. It was hidden well, but Sandor could see hints of it poking out. He looked around, wondering what she'd seen or heard.

"Hot Pie!" An old woman bellowed.

A few seconds later, a fat boy around Arya's age came tripping from the back of the dining room up towards their table. He paused as he caught sight of Arya. Then, the kid's chubby face brightened.

"Arry!" He cried. "Can't believe you came back." The kid glanced at Sandor and shrank in on himself as much as a fat twat could shrink. "You'll never guess who else is here! I thought he was dead to be honest. Anguy said the Brotherhood had to give him over to some priestess when he was in last. That was ages ago." The fat lout babbled.

Arya had gone stone faced. Sandor watched her curiously. He looked up at the fat boy. He recognized him vaguely. He hadn't gone with the Brotherhood like Arya and the lord smith had. He'd just assumed the kid belonged to the inn. Apparently the two of them had history.

"Gendry!" The fat boy shouted. "Gendry, come here!"

Sandor looked back at Arya. She had shut her eyes. Sandor understood now. She had heard that stupid twat's voice. That was what brought on the stone face. Sandor was also learning that when she did that, it usually meant she was hurting.

Arya bolted. She shoved past fat boy and disappeared out the door. A few seconds later, Sandor saw the idiot stand up. He turned to look at the door. His look of pain was more open than Arya's. Undisguised.

Gendry looked over to fat boy before landing on Sandor. He turned red and grimaced before shuffling over. The fat boy looked between Gendry and the door.

"You'll never guess –"

"What are you doing here?" Sandor graveled. "Thought you'd be riding with Snow and his army."

Gendry looked at the table. "Wanted to get a head start." Sandor knew what he meant. Wanted to get out of Winterfell more like.

"Stupid fucking cunt." Sandor growled at him. "What did you think was going to happen? Springing a proposal on her like that."

Gendry flushed deeper. "She told you?"

"You proposed to someone?" The fat boy asked interestedly. "Who?"

Sandor and Gendry both stared at the fat boy. He hadn't thought to find a boy stupider than the lord smith. Sandor crossed his arms and fixed Gendry with a fierce stare.

"Go on, Lord Gendry. Tell your friend."

Gendry ran his hand over his mouth and grimaced again.

The fat boy caught on at last. "Not…." He looked at Arya's vacated seat. "Arry? You asked _Arry_ to marry you?"

"I was drunk." The twat said defensively.

Sandor stood up and grabbed him by the front of his tunic. "You stupid fucking cunt. You get a title and a castle and you think that means something? That girl saved the whole fucking world and you think you get to own her 'cause she fucked you once?"

Gendry was so red he was almost purple. "Stop. I already know."

"Arry did?" Sandor dropped the lord smith and looked back at the fat boy he'd forgotten was there. "She saved the world?"

"Killed the Night King." Sandor confirmed.

The fat boy blanched. "Night King? Like the White Walker from the stories? He's real?"

"_Was_ real. Arya Stark knifed the bastard in the heart."

"What? Really? Like Azzi Ahip?"

"Azor Ahai." Sandor corrected with a groan.

"Right." The fat boy nodded and looked at Gendry. "Does that make you Nissa Nissa?"

Gendry rolled his eyes at the boy. "Azor Ahai actually _loved_ Nissa Nissa." He muttered.

The fat boy frowned. "Arry loves you though. Me and Lommy used to think she was a pervert when we didn't know she was a she. Lommy used to laugh at the googly eyes she'd make at you whenever she thought nobody was looking."

Gendry didn't look happy to hear that. He scratched the back of his head. "She's not Arry, Hot Pie. And she…." Gendry let out a sigh and rolled his head back with his eyes shut.

Stupid boy never finished his thought, just pushed his way out of the inn and outside. Sandor stood up, looking down at the boy impassively. Hot Pie. Stupid name. The boy looked up at him fearfully.

"You leaving, too, then?" He squeaked.

"Have to catch up to that girl you chased off."

"Me? I didn't!" Hot Pie yelped.

"Whatever." Sandor moved for the door.

"Wait!" Hot Pie shouted. "Let me get you some food for your travels. You didn't eat."

The boy was quick about it. He came out with a basket, the inn keep smacking him about the head and berating him for burning something. Hot Pie handed the basket to him sheepishly and shuffled back to the kitchen after the inn keep.

Sandor collected his mount and started down the road. It hadn't been that long. She couldn't have gotten far. Especially not as dark as it was. They should have stayed at the inn. Dumb children couldn't suck it up for a night and just sleep. Sandor missed real beds. Even the cold ones in Winterfell were nicer than the ground.

"-going to finish my list."

"I know about your list. I was there, remember?"

"Then you know I need to do this."

"I know!"

Sandor slowed his mount. He couldn't figure out if they were moving or not.

"If you know, why would you ask me to give it up?"

"When did I ever ask you to do that?"

"Lady of Storm's End." She spit.

"Yeah, okay. I never should have said that. Never should have asked you to be my wife. I was running a little hot at the time what with almost dying a few hours before. And being legitimized and made a lord." The idiot paused for a beat. "And the wine."

"So you don't want to marry me?"

"_Of course I want to marry you_!" He shouted. "You wanted to be my family, too, once upon a time."

"You wanted me to be your lady. Not your family."

"I didn't _want _that. That's just what we would have been. Soon as you went back to your family. You know it's true."

They were moving at a leisurely pace. Arguing on horseback. Leave it to two idiots to have this argument in the dead of night while a pack of wolves roamed the woods.

"I wouldn't have let that happen." Arya insisted.

Gendry scoffed. "You wouldn't have been able to prevent it."

They were quiet a while. Sandor was about to start his horse into a trot to catch them when he caught something moving in the woods from the corner of his eye. The horse caught it, too.

"I shouldn't have asked like that, but I didn't lie, Arya. I love you and nothing is worth anything to me without you in my life."

Sandor pushed his horse forward faster. He pulled up between the lovebirds startling them both. He looked at Arya.

"Wolves."

Arya turned her gaze into the woods. Sandor looked around, too, hunting for the wolves he knew were there. Arya was remarkably calm. She sighed as the horses began to fret.

"We're surrounded." She announced.

"Surrounded?" Gendry repeated. He turned in his saddle.

Arya whistled. Sandor pulled his horse into the middle of the road. Gendry's horse went where Sandor's horse nudged it. Arya didn't move. She just kept looking into the woods.

Gendry let out a startled gasp. Sandor followed the boys gaze and landed on two of the largest wolves he'd seen that weren't Stark wolves. Arya didn't look bothered by their presence at all. She was waiting. Three more wolves appeared behind them.

"Survived the undead to be slaughtered by wolves." Gendry muttered. "Perfect."

Arya's shoulders sagged as a monstrous beast stepped out of the woods. She smiled and reached her hand out.

"Nymeria." She breathed.

The wolf sniffed her hand and moved forward to sniff her leg and belly. Arya set her hand on the wolf's neck tentatively. When the beast didn't immediately tear her arm off, she scratched it affectionately.

"I could've used your help a few days ago." She told the dire wolf. "Your brother helped out. It's just you and him left."

Nymeria stretched her big head up to lick Arya's cheek. She let out a small laugh. Sandor was disgusted at the beast's ability to reach her head while she was on horseback. He felt a tugging at his boot and noticed the heavy breathing of his mount fidgeting beneath him.

"That's real sweet, wolf girl, but how about you call off the rest of these beasts?" He snarled.

Arya reached into her saddle back and pulled out the remnants of a rabbit she'd caught earlier that morning. She tossed it to her beast to scarf down. Nymeria sat down and stared at Arya expectantly. Arya frowned.

"We're going to King's Landing. Just like we were before. I'm going to kill Cersei. She's the one that had your sister killed, remember?"

Sandor couldn't believe what he was stuck with. An idiot lord smith and an idiot wolf bitch. And the wolf bitch was talking to her wolf like it was going to talk back. The only thing stopping him from leaving them both behind right there and then was the pack of giant wolves everywhere. There were more than a dozen on the road now and another dozen or more behind the tree line not including Arya's monster.

"You didn't want to come to Winterfell. Do you want to come to King's Landing?" Arya patted the beast's neck. "It's alright if you don't. I'll understand."

Her beast lifted its head and let out a haunting howl that sent chills through Sandor. It was one thing when they were pups. And Jon Snow's beast never howled. Sandor knew they were dead if Arya's beast decided on it. There were nearly forty unnaturally large wolves on the road.

Arya glanced at Sandor and Gendry. She nudged her horse forward who jumped at her touch. The horse started forward slowly. Clearly spooked like the other two.

"Come on you two." Arya called over her shoulder.

Gendry started after her immediately. His horse bucked a bit and the idiot clutched at his saddle until it calmed down again. Arya's beast padded along beside her. It's back came up almost as high as her horse's. Sandor felt a chill crawl up and down his spine. He shook it away and started after them.

**GENDRY**

"She's bigger than Ghost." Gendry said, nodding to the dire wolf pacing their campsite. Arya smiled.

"Ghost was the runt. Not quite part of the family…." A tinge of sadness whispered over her eyes before she locked it away.

Gendry cleared his throat and cast a cautious eye at the Hound who was snoring nosily on the other side of the fire. "I'm going to Maidenpool."

"Maidenpool?" Arya repeated.

Gendry nodded. "I'm supposed to be at Dragonstone. I'm going to take a boat from there."

"Why didn't you go to White Harbor? Take a ship from there?"

Gendry scratched just above his eye and wrinkled his face. "Got lost… a bit." He admitted sheepishly.

Arya looked back to Nymeria. She nodded. Gendry pushed away the twinge in his gut. He'd hoped she'd at least look a little sad to see him go. Once again, he hoped for too much.

"I thought you'd go to Storm's End." She said.

Gendry shook his head. "Gotta win the war before I'm lord of anything. Besides, I already told you I don't know the first thing about being a lord. Dunno what they do or how they do it. Just know they live in castles and get all the best food."

Arya snickered. "Food you have to use forks to eat."

"Yeah, alright. Maybe I'll just die at King's Landing and I'll never have to embarrass myself trying to run a holdfast without knowing how to read."

Arya was quiet. "Don't say that." She whispered.

"What? It's true."

Arya frowned deeply. Her brows knit together in concern. "Maybe you should just go to Storm's End."

"I'm just as much a fighter as you are." Gendry resisted the urge to add a 'M'lady' at the end.

"Fine. Just don't go into battle thinking you're going to die." She ordered.

Gendry couldn't resist. "Why?"

Arya pursed her lips. "I don't want you to die."

Gendry knew he shouldn't smile. Still, he couldn't help it. He liked to hear her admit she cared about him. Even just a bit.

"You don't hate me, then?"

Arya wrinkled her face at him. "Why would I hate you?"

Gendry pulled at the grass. "For asking you to marry me."

Arya rubbed her eye and looked at the Hound across the fire. He looked dead if he weren't snoring so loudly. Arya stood up and reached her hand down for Gendry. He stared up at her in wonder. He didn't know if he should take her hand or if it was somehow a trap. Arya looked further into the trees, waiting for him to decide.

Gendry took her hand and got to his feet. She led him into the trees. Away from the fire. Gendry licked his lips nervously.

"Should we be this far from the fire?" He whispered.

Arya looked over her shoulder at him. "What are you afraid of? Wolves?"

She got him there. He didn't suppose there were any wolves enough to rival Nymeria's pack. Arya found a small clearing in the trees and turned to him. She moved slowly. Waiting for him to stop her. A part of him said he should, but his need of her won out. She kissed him slowly until Gendry returned the kiss.

His arm went around her waist as he kissed her. Irresistible. That was the word he would use to describe Arya Stark. She pushed his cloak off his shoulders and undid hers. Gendry pulled back and rested his forehead against hers.

"Here?"

Arya pulled at the stays on his tunic. "You have a room nearby?"

Gendry let her pull his shirt off while he worked at her tunic. She kissed him again as he worked. It was okay by him. He didn't need to see to finish the task. They broke apart to peel away their shirts. It was cold. He wished they at least had a fire to keep them warm, but Arya's touched burned wherever she touched.

Arya shucked her pants and pushed him down on the blanket of clothes they had made. Gendry pulled her head down to kiss her again. His hands wandered over her body. His mouth went to her neck. He relished the small gasp that escaped her lips.

She was working herself down over him before he knew it. Gendry grabbed her around the waist and turned them over. Arya stared up at him wide eyed. He grinned down at her before rocking his hips forward. He saw the delight light in her eyes. She hitched her legs higher and spurred him on like he was one of the horses.

She sighed beside him with content. Gendry sat back and stared down at her. He wondered if it would be enough for him. To have her like this. Not as a wife, but as a lover. So long as she was willing, he would never take a wife. There would only ever be Arya for him. Couldn't she see he would do anything for her?

Gendry's eyes dropped down to her scars again. He could just barely see them in the dark of the forest. Arya could see him looking. She sat up and started pulling her clothes back on. Gendry reached out to her too quickly. She pulled away a bit.

"Wait." He begged. He kissed her again. "Do we have to go back just now?"

Arya dropped her eyes down his body. She looked back at him. "It's cold out here. We could get sick."

Gendry sighed and sat back, working his shirt from under Arya. It was wet and cold, but he put it on anyway. Arya slid into his lap and kissed him long and good. Gendry fell back in the wet grass and let her have her way. No sooner had they finished again than Tormund's drunken words came back to him.

"Was I really your first?" He asked like the idiot he was.

Arya pulled up her pants and worked at the ties. She frowned at Gendry.

"You're my only." She assured.

Gendry pulled up his own pants wearing the biggest grin he'd ever had. He knew Tormund was full of shit. That wildling may have had more experience than he did, but he didn't know Arya. He shook his cloak out as best he could before tying it back around his shoulders. He looked at Arya. He couldn't think of any woman he'd ever want to be with more than her. If he had to give her the moon for that to happen, he'd do it.

The Hound was up when they got back to the fire. He took one look at them and groaned so loud he sent the wolves howling. Gendry sat down beside the fire and tried to warm back up. Arya stood a ways away plucking at leaves stuck to her clothes with dew.

"Here I had hoped the wolves had dragged the two of you off." He grumbled.

Nymeria stood and began to sniff at Arya. Her hair was a mess and filled with grass. Her cheeks were flushed. Arya scratched at the wolf's ears. Ears that were as large as her hand. Gendry remembered the first time he'd seen Ghost. Jon's wolf looked like a puppy beside Nymeria. The wolf pressed her nose against Arya's belly sniffing deeply. Gendry's stomach dropped when the she wolf turned its big, yellow eyes on him.

The animal stepped over to him. It was unnerving that it could be so silent as big as it was. It's nose was cold against Gendry's cheek. He ducked his head and leaned away. Nymeria sniffed at his cloak and tunic. Her teeth were as long as his fingers.

"Nymeria, you're scaring him." Arya admonished.

Nymeria's ears flicked back at the sound of her voice. She gave a final huff and plopped down beside him. Arya stared at the wolf with a blank expression. Gendry wished she'd just say what she was thinking.

"We'll reach Harrenhal tomorrow. We'll sleep in an inn. Unless your damned wolves kill the villagers." The Hound grumbled.

"If they do, it just means we don't have to pay."

The Hound gave a short laugh and shook his head. "Cold bitch." He muttered.

Arya moved to the fire at last and lay down. She pulled her cloak around her and shut her eyes. Her cheeks were still flushed and grass and leaves still clung to her. He could watch her forever. Whatever she did. Wherever she went. He'd always found her fascinating. He'd never known a girl so fearless. Maybe not fearless. He'd seen her afraid too many times to count. But brave.

They shared a room at an inn outside Harrenhal. Arya dropped 10 gold dragons into the innkeeper's hand in exchange for their fattest pig. She took it outside for Nymeria and the pack. One pig wouldn't be enough to feed them all, but Arya explained it might stave off any attacks on the villagers.

"I start east tomorrow." Gendry said though he knew she already knew.

Arya had relaxed around him again. She'd been cagey since his proposal. His stupid stupid proposal. Arya locked up again. She rolled onto her side away from him. He touched her tentatively. Just the tip of his fingers smoothing down her arm.

"You might get lost again." She said. "Then what will you do?"

"Hot Pie said it was a straight shot once I hit the Bay of Crabs."

"What does Hot Pie know about traveling?"

"Well, he works at the crossroads. Talks to a lot of travelers. I figure he must've picked up something over the years." Gendry reasoned.

Arya had nothing to say back to that. Gendry flipped onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. His chest hurt all over again as a sudden realization dawned on him. There was a very real possibility that this was the last he would see of Arya Stark. Either of them could die or they both could. Even if they survived, she didn't want to be with him. She might vanish into the trees or across the seas.

"Do you remember the last time we came to Harrenhal. When we were in chains?" Arya whispered.

Gendry looked over at the back of her head. "Yeah, and I almost had a rat eat through my gut?"

"I thought we were going to die a thousand times over, but we never did." She sounded strangely hollow. "I was sure we were going to die at Winterfell. I thought the Others would take us all, but we didn't. We both survived."

"Thanks to you." He pointed out. Arya was quiet for a long while.

"You can't die this time either." She said at last. "You have to survive and you have to go and be Lord of Storm's End. And you have to marry some highborn lady and have a family and live happily."

Gendry felt the life whoosh out of him.

"I won't." He said. "You're all the family I've ever had. You're it. Just you."

"Please. You had those three other girls."

Gendry turned Arya onto her back so she would look at him. "I never loved them. Never."

Arya avoided his eyes. "You could. You could love someone else."

"I never will."

"Gendry –"

Gendry silenced her by kissing her fiercely. If it was to be their last night together he'd rather they spent it happily. He didn't want it to be true. He didn't want them to never see each other again. To never touch each other again. Never kiss each other.

He woke up to an empty bed. It hurt, but he was unsurprised. They hadn't left long before him. A few wolves still lingered. They looked at him expectantly as they followed him down the road. When he reached the fork leading east, he faltered. If he continued south he'd meet up with them again. He'd see her again.

Gendry turned his horse to the left and started for Maidenpool. The wolves started after him at first until they realized he wasn't going to join up with their pack. Then, they abandoned him, too.

**ARYA**

"If you love him so much, why'd you turn him down?" The Hound graveled.

Arya fixed her face for the lie. "I don't love him."

"You're a terrible liar."

Arya looked down at Nymeria, still padding along beside her. Not even Grey Wind had been so big when she'd seen him at Riverrun. Arya remembered what it had felt like to see him slaughtered in his cage. To see her brother's headless body paraded around. She remembered thinking that her father must have looked the same at the Sept of Baelor.

She spent her life having her family snatch away from her. Her home. Everyone she loved. The ache she got in her chest just thinking about them was near unbearable. She didn't want to love anyone else. Gendry made it so hard not to love him. If she didn't, maybe she wouldn't be so terrified that he would be just another body to burn.

_Cersei, the Mountain, Euron_. She thought. The Hound had inssited he be the one to kill his brother, but until the man's body lay at her feet, his name would stay on her list. She repeated the list in her head over and over again. She must have said it a million times by the time the golden city appeared before them. Nestled on the shore.

Arya had been excited to go to King's Landing back when she was a child. It screamed of adventure and excitement. By the time they'd reached the crossroads, Arya's excitement had waned. Now she rode side by side with the man who ran down her friend all those years ago. Mycah who was just as excited to see King's Landing as she had been.

"Looks like shit." Arya announced, staring at the city. Nymeria and the pack had run off to hunt. Arya wasn't worried. She'd either come back or start back for the Riverlands.

"Smells like shit, too." The Hound agreed.

They rode down from the hill towards the gates. She had no idea how the Hound planned on getting through the gates without someone recognizing him. There wasn't a soul in all of Westeros that didn't know his face.

Arya pulled up on her reins. The Hound left to take a piss. She had to work quickly. She'd already changed out of her Northerner garb at Harrenhal. Now she pulled out a dress. She'd had Sansa make it for her special. She pulled found her serving wench's face and changed. She was tying a scarf around her hair when the Hound reappeared.

He squinted at her and then at the horse. Arya smiled. The serving wench had a pretty face and a nice smile. Most men looked lustful when they saw her. She remembered Walder Frey smacking her rear lasciviously before she slit his throat.

"Who're you?" The Hound growled.

"Annara, M'lord." She said with a flutter of her lashes.

The Hound moved over and snatched her horse's reins from her. "Best you leave here while you can, girl."

"Leave?" She frowned. "That's just what I intended, but m'lord snatched away the horse."

"This isn't your horse. If you were smart, girl, you'd run the other way before the horse's owner gets back ad sees you tried to steal from her." The Hound warned.

Arya wanted to laugh. He was using Arya to threaten a stranger. Annara sashayed over to the Hound and settled her hand on his forearm flirtatiously. Just to see what he would do. The Hound scowled down at her and snatched his arm away.

"Go before the wolves come." He snapped.

"Wolves, M'lord?" She asked innocently.

As if summoned, they appeared out of the forest around them. Nymeria came last. Annara looked frightened. She looked up at the Hound. Even he looked wary. Almost as bad as when they'd been surrounded by them at the crossroads.

"Where's that damned girl when you need her?" He muttered.

Nymeria stepped over to Annara and stuck her nose in her face. She snuffled and Annara squeezed her eyes shut with fear. Nymeria lowered her head and nuzzled Annara's belly. She sighed in defeat. She could fool a hound, but not a wolf.

Annara scratched at the wolves big head familiarly. Her muzzle was coated with blood. The pack must have been successful in their hunt.

"Faceless Men." The Hound rumbled. "Fuck's sake. I thought the shapeshifting was a myth."

Annara patted Nymeria and rolled her eyes at the Hound. "I can't very well walk into King's Landing as Arya Stark and expect a private meeting with the queen."

"You think a lowborn girl is any better?" He challenged.

"Annara will get me through the gates. Once I'm there, I can get myself a new face. I'm thinking her hand will give me the access I need."

"And how do you plan on getting to the hand?"

Annara smiled easily at him. "Oh, well, I have information about the queen's brothers. Very important."

The Hound frowned at her thoughtfully. "My brother's still mine to kill." He grumbled, mounting his horse.

"Unless he kills you first." Annara tossed back. Her peasant's dress made it harder to ride. "Pull up your hood, Father."

The Hound scoffed to mask a chuckle. He did as she said and they rode toward the gates in relative silence. The Hound pulled up before they left the trees. He stared first at the gate then at Annara.

"You're right, you know. He might kill me. So if I die, I want you to promise me something."

Annara nodded easily. Annara could promise anything. She wasn't real.

"Arya, promise me." The Hound insisted.

"It's Annara." She corrected.

"Yes, but I'm talking to _Arya Stark_. The bitch that killed the Night King. And I want Arya Stark to make me a promise."

She never gave the Hound enough credit. He was smarter than anyone would guess. She pulled Annara's face away and met the Hound's eyes evenly.

"What?"

The Hound looked back at the gate again. "If you don't die in there I want you to find that smith. You don't have to marry the idiot, but you do have to find him."

"Why do you care?" Arya asked, startled by his request.

The Hound glowered at her. "Because I don't want you to spend all your thinking on death just so you can end up a miserable old shit like me. You're alive. He's alive. And you love each other. I may not like the cunt, but I know he's good for you. Promise me."

Arya looked down at Nymeria at her side. Wild as she was, she'd come when Arya had needed her. She was here with her whole pack.

"_Arya_." The Hound insisted.

"I promise."

She pulled Annara's face back over her own. She had promised. It didn't feel like a lie.


	3. She's Home

She's Home

I know this is late. I've been sitting on this for a while. Originally, I had Sansa walk in on them, but the Hound makes more sense I think. Especially now that we know that he knows.

Work Text:

The two halves of the spear slid together neatly. The way he'd fixed the leather handholds that met in the center made it look like one continuous weapon. Unless you knew better, you wouldn't know that it could be pulled apart and fashioned into duel spears. Gendry swung it around by each end experimentally. It needed to be flawless. It had to be his _best_ work.

Gendry looked around the forge. He was the only one left working. The other smiths had gone to prepare for the battle. To say their goodbyes to their loved ones. Gendry looked at his mace lying on the shelf beneath his workbench. He should say goodbye, too. Or… good luck. Or… something. He should definitely say… something.

Gendry sniffed at the cold. He'd worked himself into a sweat over the past few days. Now that he finished his last weapon, the cold had settled in. He set the spear on his workbench and went in search of his tunic and cloak. He paused before he put his clothes on. He was filthy.

Jon had mentioned the hot springs that furnaced Winterfell. The baths that lay beneath the castle. He'd suggested them to him a time or two after Gendry had complained of the cold. Now, Gendry took advantage. He scrubbed the grime from his body. Arya would be expecting her weapon soon. He just had to find her. Then he could tell her…. Well, he'd work out what he was going to say later.

He dressed in clean clothes before returning to the smithy for her weapon. He stopped outside. Where would she be? With her family maybe? Gendry saw Jon up on the battlements with his Night's Watch friends. No Arya. He headed into the castle. She was around somewhere no doubt.

He spotted the vibrant red hair of Arya's sister. The Lady of Winterfell. He started for her, expecting Arya at her side. Instead, it was a man with curly brown hair. He tried to remember if he'd met the man before. Gendry guessed not. There was some sort of sea creature engraved on his armor. He certainly would have remembered seeing something like that before.

Gendry huffed and spun back around. _Not with family, then_? He fiddled with the yellow ribbon he had fixed around the shaft of the spear. Where else would she have gone? The battle was hours away. Death was hours away. What could she possibly be spending her time doing that took priority over her family?

Gendry walked back outside and nearly plowed into Arya's other brother. The crippled one. He apologized profusely and clutched at the spear with both hands. Bran. That was his name. The boy gazed up at him with cool eyes. Like he was unsurprised by Gendry's appearance.

"Arya's in the storeroom just off the forge." Bran announced unprompted.

Gendry took a step back, fighting a blush. The boy was strange. He'd heard rumors about Ned Stark's last true born son. None he believed. Not really.

"Thanks." Gendry said. He started for the storeroom, but turned back. "I'm just making sure she has her weapon before, uh, they get here." He explained.

"I know." He said, simply.

Gendry thought maybe he should say something more, but the boy was making him uneasy. There was a knowing look in his eyes that made Gendry want to bury himself. He gave the lord a short nod and continued to the storeroom hoping he wasn't being sent in the wrong direction on purpose.

The solid _thunk_ of arrows landing on a target told Gendry he was in the right place even before he saw her. His throat tightened just looking at her. She was nothing like the girl he'd left. She had been a wild little thing. Her hair was always everywhere. She was noisy and loved roughhousing and rolling in the mud. The new Arya was still wild, but she hid it now. She was quiet. Too quiet. She didn't roughhouse. She wasn't a child anymore. She was a woman. A beautiful woman.

Gendry gave his head a small shake. He shouldn't be thinking of her that way. She was still a highborn lady and he was still a lowborn bastard from Fleabottom. Still, she made it hard. Especially with the way she was looking at him earlier that morning. He never expected to see that lustful gaze on Arya Stark's face. He never expected it to excite him so much.

He stepped out of the shadows and cleared his throat as she let loose her last arrow. She looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes went to the spear immediately. The corner of her lips tipped up just a touch.

"That for me?" She asked, though she knew it was.

Gendry swallowed and held it up for her. He still hadn't figured out what he was going to say to her. Words stuck in his head all jumbled up. He could feel his heart beating in his ears. She set her boy down on some barrels and took the spear from his hand. She glanced at him before turning and walking away a few steps, twirling the spear easily.

"This'll work." She flipped it around her body again.

_What do I say_? He demanded of himself. _Remember when you said you could be my family? Does the offer still stand? _Gendry frowned. That was stupid. She was probably still mad about how he planned to stay with the Brotherhood. She had _begged_ him to come with her to Winterfell. He should've just sucked it up and said yes.

"Last time you saw me you wanted me to come to Winterfell," he started slowly. Uncertain that these were the right words, but knowing he needed to say something now or never. "Took the long road, but…." Understatement of the season.

Arya narrowed her eyes at him. She moved toward him, still flipping her new spear. Gendry leapt out of the way as she passed. "What did the Red Woman want with you?" She asked.

Gendry grimaced and leaned against a barrel. He wondered how much to tell her. Less would be better. "She wanted my blood. For some kind of spell." _A spell that likely killed your older brother_. He clenched his teeth together.

Arya flipped her spear from front to back along her body. "Why your blood?" She asked, focusing on the movement on the spear.

Gendry took a slow breath. He'd told Jon easily enough at the caves in Dragonstone, he could tell Arya. "I'm Robert Baratheon's bastard." She caught the spear on her shoulder. A bewildered expression filled her face. "I didn't know until she told me." He explained quickly, lest she get the wrong idea and think he'd purposefully hidden that detail from her after she'd trusted him. "Then she tied me up, stripped me down, put leeches all over me."

Gendry didn't like to think about it. He had worked extra hard to erase that miserable night from his mind. It wasn't hard to do. His head had felt light and airy after his second sip of the summerwine she'd fed him. He worked it out later in his cell in the dungeon that she must have put something else in the drink after all.

Arya moved past him again. Her brow was furrowed in thought. "Was that your first time?"

Gendry frowned. Where had she been that have leeches put on you was a normal occurrence? He shook his head. "No, yeah, I've never had leeches put all over my cock –"

"Your first time with a woman." She said, setting her spear down on a stack of crates.

Gendry's heart dropped into his stomach. "_What_?" He crossed over to her. "I… I didn't – I wasn't _with _her." He stammered.

Arya turned to him calmly. She worked her glove off her hand, staring at him with those steely eyes. "Where you with other girls? Before that, in King's Landing? Or after?" She asked in the same tone someone might ask about the weather or the harvest.

_This is a trap. I dunno how, but it's a trap. She's getting back at me for the Brotherhood thing._ Gendry couldn't decide if he should answer truthfully or lie. He _wanted_ to lie. He _wanted_ to find an excuse to leave and maintain some semblance of pride if he had any left.

"You don't remember?" Arya pressed. She flopped her gloves down beside her spear.

Gendry let out a sigh. "Yes. I was." He said, firmly. He refused to be embarrassed about it. He hadn't ever thought to see her again anyway. He'd _hoped_ of course, but never expected.

A small glimmer of anger crossed her face so briefly he might have missed it if he weren't watching for any sign that she was about to slug him. He was suddenly very aware that this was the first time they'd been completely alone together since the cave. The first time in Winterfell when they hadn't been surrounded by other smiths and the Hound.

"One? Two? Twenty?" Arya continued.

_What the hell is she hoping to gain here?_ Gendry was flushing brilliantly. "I didn't keep count." He lied.

Arya stood across from him now. Her hands were held behind her back. She had an easy confidence about her while Gendry just wanted to curl into a ball and let her kick him until she got tired. Gods she was gorgeous.

"Yes, you did." She said with no room for argument.

Gendry dropped his head and sighed heavily. She wasn't going to drop it. She never did. Always pushing and prodding until she was satisfied with the answers. Ever since they were kids and the gold cloaks had come searching for him. He never could lie to her much less keep a secret from her.

"Three." He admitted. He looked up at her hesitantly.

She looked him up and down in an appraising sort of way. He wished he could work out what she was thinking. He wished she didn't look so ridiculously attractive. She had been so scrawny and filthy when he'd known her. He tried to dredge up that memory, but could only see the woman before him.

She swallowed and took a slow step toward him. Gods he wanted to kiss her. He wanted her to want to kiss him. It was a bad thing to wish. He tried to imagine all the ways Jon might disembowel him if he ever learned how Gendry lay awake at night thinking of his little sister. It didn't help that she sauntered over to him like she was thinking the same things.

"We're probably going to die soon." She said matter-of-factly. She was so close. He saw her swallow hard. What did she have to be nervous about? "I want to know what it's like before that happens." She whispered and Gendry could hear just a touch of fear in her voice that she was working hard to conceal.

She stared up at him with those wide, beautiful eyes. Gendry took an extra second or two to process what she had just said. In what was possibly her final hours, Arya Stark of Winterfell wanted to know what it was like. What sex was like. With him. _WITH HIM_!?

She was waiting for him to answer. He needed to answer, but all of his focus had suddenly gone to her mouth. The lips he so badly wanted to kiss. So, _so_ badly. His breathing was coming heavier. She was so close to him.

"Arya, I –"

He didn't get to finish his sentence because Arya had pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. It was just fine by him since he hadn't entirely worked out the rest of what he planned to say in the first place. And it felt so good. She felt so good.

She undid his cloak from his shoulders and he shrugged it off. _Holy shit. She means it!_ Gendry marveled as she worked at his belt. Gendry moved his hands to her belt searching for her mouth that had disappeared from his. Her hands went to her own tunic as she kissed him back. Gendry couldn't help himself, he let out a small laugh of disbelief and excitement. Arya laughed with him, like she was just as excited as he was.

She relieved him of his shirt and grabbed his face again to kiss him. Gendry wanted to hold her to him. To kiss her until he couldn't possibly kiss her anymore. Her hand moved from his face to his chest and she shoved him back hard.

Gendry landed on a stack of grain sacks. He stared up at her, holding his breath. _She changed her mind. I did something wrong and now she's changed her mind_. But she hadn't. Her hands worked at the ties on her shirt before she grabbed the hem and yanked it over her head. Gendry watched in fascination until he saw her belly.

Scars laced her body from long healed wounds. Gendry's mouth ran dry. She hadn't had those before. Gendry hadn't seen her naked before, but he knew. Those were new. Something terrible had happened to her. Based on the multitude of scars and their positions, Gendry knew it was lucky she was even still alive. Something he might have prevented had he stayed with her like she'd asked.

"I'm not the Red Woman." Arya announced, bringing his attention back to the task at hand. "Take your own bloody pants off."

Gendry stared at her a beat longer. A flicker of panic whispered over her face. Like she was worried he wouldn't want to now that he'd seen her. Gendry lifted his eyes to the rest of her. She was starting to work her pants down her hips more slowly, waiting to see if he would do as she said or not. Gendry went quickly to his task, unlacing his breeches.

Arya smiled once they were both completely bared to each other. Her confidence back. She flicked her short hair behind her shoulder and moved to straddle him. Gendry adjusted himself against the grain sacks and tipped his head to meet her kiss. It wasn't so frantic now. She laid her hand on his cheek and kissed him more deeply.

Arya pulled back after a short time and looked down at him. She frowned. "Aren't you supposed to do something?" She asked.

Gendry blinked up at her in a daze. "What?"

Arya swallowed nervously and started to run her hands across his chest petting lower and lower. The tips of her fingers brushed his cock and he gave a little start. He'd been so immersed with kissing her he'd forgotten her purpose. Gendry set his hands on her body. She was so soft, but he could feel firm muscle tightly wound beneath her skin.

Gendry set his lips against her neck licked her skin. She let out a gasp and lurched in his arms. Gendry nibbled at her collarbone. He slid his hands around her waist to her rear. He felt a tremor run through her body. He pulled his head back and looked up at her.

"Are you alright?" He whispered.

Arya kissed him again. "Keep going." She ordered.

Gendry fixed his mouth around her left nipple and sucked. Arya's hands came up to cup his head. He gave it a little nip and moved over to the other. Arya let out a gasp as his fingers found her cleft. She was already wet, but he wanted her dripping. He would not have her first time be anything less than bliss.

Arya was panting into his mouth. He wondered if she was aware of the keening sounds she was making. Her fingers were clenched around his shoulders. Her hips were grinding down against his hand. She moved her head down to kiss his neck and he almost came right then and there.

"Gendry," she whimpered.

He used his free hand to bring her face back to his. He kissed her softly and nuzzled her cheek with his nose. She pressed her lips together in a tight line and moaned. Gendry pulled his hand away from her and settled it on her thigh.

"Do you want me to take over?" He asked, gently. He didn't think he could wait anymore. His cock was throbbing.

"That wasn't you taking over?" She murmured. She rested her forehead against his.

Gendry smiled and kissed her again. "Move down a bit." He asked.

Arya shuffled her knees back along his body. Gendry sat up to guide Arya down over him. He watched her face carefully. Waiting for any sign that she wanted them to stop. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and whimpered as he eased her down over him.

"Are you alright? Take your time." He told her softly.

Arya shook her head and pushed herself the rest of the way down him in one swift motion. She let out a cry and squeezed her eyes shut. Gendry panicked. He didn't want to hurt her. He wanted her to enjoy this.

"That wasn't taking your time." He chided. "Are you hurt?"

Arya's jaw was clenched tight. She took a few deep breaths and slowly opened her eyes again. She met his gaze with cool determination. "It's fine. There's no time to be slow now."

Gendry tucked his fingers into her hair and rubbed her scalp gently. "There's time enough."

He waited until he felt Arya finally relax around him. He watched her unclench her jaw and her shoulders sagged. He shifted beneath her, rocking them slowly. Arya whimpered again, her knees dug into his back.

"This isn't it, is it?" Arya asked.

Gendry set both hands on either side of her hips and rocked her up and back down slowly. Arya let out a gasp of pleasure. Gendry grinned at her. She moved again on her own. Gendry was focusing on Arya's pleasure extra hard to try and make himself forget about his own for as long as possible.

Arya rocked her hips back and forth a few more times before she was trembling over him. He could feel the muscles in her thighs quivering with exertion. Gendry understood at once. He wrapped his arms around Arya's back and laid her back on the grain sacks. He kissed her tenderly and rocked into her again.

Arya stared up at him through heavily lidded eyes. Every time he thrust into her her eyes would widen briefly and flutter back to half lidded. He began to pick up the pace. Arya delighted in the change until he felt her shuddering beneath him. Her eyes rolled back in her head. He let out a gasp of his own as he came, too.

Gendry realized his mistake too late. He stayed inside her a few minutes longer. It couldn't be helped now and she felt so good around him. Arya blinked up at him. A tired smile played on her lips. Gendry smiled back and captured her lips with his own.

Gendry pulled out of her and rolled back onto his back. He fumbled around for his cloak. Arya was still and silent beside him. He was growing nervous. Maybe she had wanted to stay on top. Maybe he should've been patient and waited until she asked him to take over.

He threw his cloak over them both and leaned back to watch her.

"Are you alright?" He asked again.

Arya nodded. She was silent a while longer and Gendry began to doubt it. Did he not live up to her expectations?

"Do you suppose we have time to do that again?" She said at last.

Gendry rolled his head to the side to look at her. She turned and looked back arching her brow suggestively. He grinned at her.

"If there was a White Walker in this room right now I would still make time to do that again." Gendry promised.

Arya rolled over him and kissed him again. "But we'd kill the thing first."

Gendry nodded seriously. "Oh, absolutely." He agreed wholeheartedly just before Arya smothered him with more kisses.

The horns jolted him from his sleep. Arya was already on her feet sorting through the discarded clothing strewn across the floor. Gendry pushed the cloak aside and stood to join her. She handed him his pants wordlessly. Gendry should say something. He opened his mouth, but the sound of the horn was all that could be heard.

Gendry tucked his shirt into his pants. Arya was turning around searching for her tunic. Gendry saw it near the crates. He picked it up and passed it to her. She met his eyes and gave him a ghost of a smile before looking away and finishing her dressing.

"This is how you chose to spend your final hours, then?" The Hound's growly voice sounded from the entrance. Gendry nearly jumped out of his skin.

Arya fastened her belt around her hip and checked to make sure her Valyrian steel dagger was still in its place. She looked at the Hound coolly. Gendry hurriedly finished dressing.

"Jealous?" Arya asked, tugging her gloves on.

The Hound grunted and fixed Gendry with a mean stare. Gendry reached down for his cloak. The Hound snatched it from his hands and threw it across the storeroom. Gendry stared up at the big man wondering if he was about to be punched or worse.

"Soldiers don't wear cloaks into battle. You want to trip and fall on a sword, you stupid fuckin' twat?"

Gendry scratched behind his ear and stared at his feet.

"Stop that." Arya barked.

The Hound rolled his eyes. Arya had her spear split in two and fixed on the right side of her belt. Her bow was slung across her back. Gendry's stomach dropped as reality came crashing home. They were about to go out and fight an army of dead men tens of thousands strong. Arya was going to be on the battlements. He was meant to be on the front lines.

Arya seemed to come to the same conclusion he had. She was suddenly in front of him, pulling his head down for a fierce kiss that she softened after a half second. He heard the Hound groan beside them. They ignored him.

"You better not end up on the other side." Arya warned. "I'd hate to have to kill you."

Gendry smiled down at her. "Same to you."

He kissed her again, squeezing his eyes shut hard. He wanted to think about the kiss and nothing else for a second or two at least. Arya's gloved hand settled on his cheek before she pushed him away and disappeared from the storeroom.

The Hound's big hand slapped down on the back of his neck and he practically dragged Gendry from the room. Gendry stumbled after him uselessly. The Hound's grip was tighter than someone directing a soldier to fight. It was more like a reminder of what he could do to him. Or wanted to do to him.

"I have to grab my weapon." Gendry said as they reached the forge.

The Hound gave a grunt and let Gendry slip from beneath his hand. Gendry grabbed his mace from his workbench and hurried back to the Hound. Gendry looked up and saw Arya standing beside her sister on the battlements.

"Stop thinking what you're thinking." The Hound grumbled as they passed through the gates.

Gendry flushed. "You don't know what I was thinking." He said defensively.

The Hound didn't look at him. He scoffed. "Get your mind out of her pants unless you want to end up dead. None of those dead men give two shits if you fucked the wolf bitch or not. They just want to kill you."

"Yeah, thanks, I know that." Gendry snapped, embarrassed that the Hound had been able to read him so easily.

The Hound pushed their way all the way to the front of the lines. Gendry adjusted his grip on his mace. They were at the front of one of three armies. One of those armies was the Dothraki horde that had been the stuff of nightmares for all Westerosi children for generations. The Unsullied were behind them and the Northern bannermen stood around him. Some of those soldiers must feel pretty confident in their chances, but Gendry had seen their enemy in action already. So had the Hound and Beric and Tormund. They didn't feel anything close to confidence until the dragons screeched overhead.

When bannermen charged into battle, they screamed out the names of their holdfasts. For their homes. For Karhold! For Sunspear! For Winterfell! Gendry didn't have a holdfast to call his own. None that felt right. Instead, his own battle cry was a steady loop in his mind. Not for a lord or a castle. He never felt an attachment to anything like that.

_For Arya_! He told himself.


	4. Choosing

Choosing

It only took her three day's travel from King's Landing to Storm's End. It didn't help that every so often her head would begin to spin so aggressively that it took all her waning strength to keep herself on her horse. Nights were hardest. She was exhausted in every sense of the word, but no matter what she did, she couldn't sleep.

The faces of the woman and her child wouldn't leave her mind. She couldn't save them. She couldn't save anyone. After a few short hours of trying to rest, Arya would climb back onto her horse and continue on down the road.

It wasn't until she reached the gates of the holdfast that it occurred to her that he might not even be there. Her stomach twisted with fear. She prayed to every god she could think of that he hadn't gone to King's Landing. That he wasn't part of the ashes.

Her vision was going blurry again. She had no idea if it was something to do with how hard she'd hit her head or if it was because she hadn't slept. She urged her horse through the gates despite the shouts from guards to stop and state her name. She only stopped when her horse was surrounded and she had nowhere to go.

She squinted down at the faces around her. Searching. Searching.

"Gendry," she asked, astounded to hear what her voice sounded like. Raspy and dry and rough. "I'm looking," she was panting. Just speaking was taking her breath away. "I'm looking for…."

She heard her name from miles away. It was him. He was here. Alive. Alive. She leaned toward his voice.

"Gendry." She managed before she lost her balance on the horse and fell heavily into the mud. Someone was touching her face. She shut her eyes. She was so tired. She heard the familiar rumble of Gendry's voice, but she couldn't work out what he was saying. She was being pulled away.

Then it was just darkness. Darkness.

Gendry arrived at Storm's End with ten of Jon's northern men and a promise from Davos that he would arrive within the week for assistance. During the journey south, the men would take bets as to the state of the holdfast. It was close to King's Landing so some of the men thought Cersei might've had it sacked.

"We'll get there and your castle will be naught more than a stack of dusty towers." Rickard asserted on their way from the harbor.

"Don't listen to him, Lord Gendry." Allyn said at his side. He had lost his left arm in the Battle for the Dawn. In fact, all of his borrowed men held injuries from the battle. It was why they were with him and not Jon. "He's just jealous he didn't get a lordship."

"Least I'm not a bastard!" Rickard spit back.

Gendry didn't say anything. He hadn't spoken save a few words since they left Winterfell. Arya had already disappeared by the time he packed to leave. Off to fight the queen's war. Gendry wanted to hate her. It would make his heartbreak more bearable, but he understood why she'd rejected him. He knew he never should have proposed in the first place. He was running high from the events of the days. She had been right to turn him down.

Knowing that didn't make it hurt any less.

The castle was still standing when they reached it. Somehow both nothing like what he imagined and exactly what he thought it would be. Allyn rode forward to meet the two guards standing at the gate. They had expected the castle to be abandoned.

Gendry stopped his horse beside Allyn and looked down at the guards. They gawked up at him in wonder.

"Gods, it's like looking at Renly's ghost!" One of them gasped.

Gendry frowned. He'd never met Renly Baratheon. He'd never met his own father. He _had_ met Stannis and he didn't care for him. The guards stepped aside and let them enter the holdfast. A stable boy ran out to grab his horse so he could swing down from the saddle.

"Queen Cersei left Storm's End to Tyrek Lannister after Stannis Baratheon was killed." Someone was explaining. "But he was called away to King's Landing to fight the Dragon Queen and is not expected to return."

"Anyone in King's Landing is good as dead." Allyn agreed.

"Then his lady will soon be a widow." The man said solemnly. He looked up at Gendry curiously. "Perhaps –"

"Where's the smithy?" Gendry asked before the man could continue.

"What?"

Allyn frowned at the man. "My lord wants the smithy."

"Oh, er, well, it's just over here." The man led them across the yard. Gendry stared at him. He was a small man. His hair was white and his face was lined with wrinkles. He wore armor, but it looked like it was mostly for decoration.

Gendry glanced at the wall and grimaced at the crimson banners. Gendry looked over at Allyn. "Those should be stags." He said, quietly.

Allyn followed Gendry's line of sight and scowled. His upper lip curled back with distaste. "Take those Lannister flags down." Allyn barked. "Where are the Baratheon banners?"

The old man looked over at the banners and nodded quickly. "Of course, I'll have them put up straight away." He stopped at the entrance to a modest smithy and stood aside so Gendry could step inside. "Malik!" The man called into the forge.

A smith appeared from the depths of the smithy. He looked first at the old man then at Gendry and Allyn. Gendry moved to the first workbench he saw and picked up a half-finished blade. He turned it in his hand and picked at the metal with his fingernail. The work was passable. Master Mott's had been better.

"Gil, what do you mean by bringing these people here?" Malik demanded.

"This is Lord Gendry Baratheon. He wanted to see the smithy." The old man explained.

"Baratheon? Thought you were all dead." Malik said to Gendry.

Gendry frowned at a piece of armor. "Not me." He replied.

"What about Lord Lannister?" Malik asked the old man.

"He'll be dead in two days at the latest." Allyn answered.

Gendry looked over at Malik. "Did you do all this?"

Malik spread his arms wide to gesture at the smithy. "You see anyone else here as can swing a hammer?"

Gendry narrowed his eyes at the man. He was prideful of only subpar work. It was no wonder his uncles were dead if this lout was the one arming them. "Me." He answered.

Allyn grinned beside him. "No one deadlier!" Allyn boasted proudly. He'd fought beside him against the White Walkers for a little while.

"Would my lord like to see the rest of the castle now?" The old man asked.

He didn't. He wanted to pick up a piece or iron or steel and beat at it until it looked how he wanted. The picture in his mind. A long, thin sword. A gift for someone he was unlikely to ever see again. He gave the old man a short nod and let him lead him out of the smithy and into the castle.

The old man's name was Gilbert Farring. He was the castellan of Storm's End and was in charge of running the keep while his lord was away. He had a second in command, but he had gone off with the Lord Lannister so he was likely dead, too. There were two maesters in the stronghold which he thought was odd. Maester Pylos and Maester Jurne. Maester Pylos had been Stannis' in Dragonstone and Maester Jurne had been Renly's.

It was quickly divested that Gendry had no experience running a holdfast or being a lord in general. He also showed very little interest in doing so. He spent as much time as he could in the smithy. If the matter was important enough, Gilbert would find him in the smithy and press an answer out of him.

He really wished Ser Davos were there to talk him through these things. He didn't know what he was meant to do so he hid in the smithy and did what he knew. Lord Lannister's widow would appear at meals. A pretty, younger woman with fair hair and a round, pregnant belly. Gendry said nothing to her no matter how she flirted with him. Her lord husband was dead and Gendry had the power to kick her out of the castle at his earliest whim.

Of course he wouldn't do that. She was full pregnant. Due to deliver any day. Gendry may not have wanted her there, but he wasn't about to throw a new mother out onto the road with a squalling infant. He'd seen too many starving children and desperate mothers to be that heartless. He did, however move her out of the lord's chambers to a small room on the other end of the castle.

Well. _He_ didn't. Gilbert Farring did. Although he pestered Gendry continuously about perhaps wedding the widow and sending her new babe away in favor of babes of his own. Gendry never responded to these suggestions. He'd only arrived two weeks before. It had been less than a month since he'd lost his mind and proposed to Arya. Less than a month since he'd had her in his arms. Since he'd tasted her on his tongue.

Gendry was working a new piece of steel when he heard the commotion. He thought it was nothing more than a brawl between Jon's Northerners and the Southerners. He started back to work when he heard his head guard shouting at someone demanding their name and purpose. Gendry sighed and set his tongs and hammer down to step outside.

She was on a ragged, white horse. Nothing compared to how worn she looked. The blood was what struck him. The gash on her forehead from Winterfell was open anew. Her eyes were slits and she was swaying on the horse's back. Gendry started forward.

"Arya!" He shouted. She turned toward him.

"Gendry," he could see her lips move more than he could hear her voice. Then, she slipped from the horse's back and plummeted to the ground. Gendry shoved his way through the men and stopped beside her.

"Arya," he whispered. He touched her face. She was pale. Too pale. He scooped her up into his arms and started for the castle. "I need Jurne and Pylos." Gendry shouted to anyone listening.

"My lord, who –"

"Get the maesters." He ordered, continuing up to his rooms with Arya held in his arms.

She had a fever, a concussion, broken ribs, her lungs were filled with ash making it hard for her to breathe. Maester Pylos set about working on a tonic for her breathing. Maester Jurne worked on lowering her fever. Gendry refused to leave her side. She slept the whole time.

After three days, her fever subsided. Still, she did not wake. The measters brought a honeyed mixture to feed her, but Gendry always took the dish from them and fed her himself. He bathed her himself. Dressed her himself. He didn't want anyone else seeing her. Arya was a private person.

"A raven from Winterfell, My Lord." Gilbert said after a week. Gendry pet Arya's hair back from her forehead.

"Sansa?" It wasn't really a question. He knew already.

"The Lady of Winterfell, yes. She's inquiring as to the health of her sister. She's also curious as to why she came here instead of returning to Winterfell."

Gendry covered his eyes with one hand, the other remained in place on Arya's. "Tell her the fever broke and we're still waiting for her to wake up." Gendry said. "Tell her I'll keep her informed of any changes."

"And the second question?" Gilbert pressed, hesitantly.

Gendry glared at the man. "When she wakes up, we can ask."

Gilbert nodded dutifully and went to his task. Gendry bent his head and pressed his lips to the back of Arya's hand. "Please, Arya. I've never begged for anything. I've never even begged for my life. I never thought it was worth much in the first place. Always figured I'd die young just like almost everyone else in Fleabottom. But I'm begging you to live. You're not me. Your life is worth so much. So much." Gendry sniffled and dashed away a few stray tears with the back of his hand. "Please, Arya, I need you to open your eyes. I need you to live because if you die my life really will be worthless.

"Everyone has a destiny, right? Some people's destiny is just to die. Like Beric. He died loads of times and it only stuck once. Well, I never knew mine. I thought it really was just to die. I was a lowborn bastard fool. That's all I ever would've been if I hadn't met you. That's what my destiny is. You. I was born to love you and I do. I love you so much, Arya. I loved you when you were a scrawny little scrapper picking fights with Hot Pie and Lommy." Gendry gave a small chuckle at the memory. "I loved you in Harrenhal when I was working for the enemy. I loved you in that cave with the Brotherhood. I loved you the second you stepped into the forge in Winterfell. I loved you my whole life so if you die…." Gendry had to stop and take a few shaky breaths before he could continue. "If you die, what the hell is it all for? What the hell is my life for? It's all I was meant to do. So please, _please_ you have to open your eyes."

Arya's eyes stayed shut. Her breathing slow and even. Leagues better than when she'd arrived with ash in her lungs. Gendry dropped his head onto his arm and cried.

She'd been sleeping for a week. Jurne and Pylos wouldn't tell him straight out, they were afraid of him, but he heard them whispering about what a bad sign that was. Allyn came at noon every day and tried to talk him into leaving her side.

"She beat death once," Allyn said gently. "She can do it again."

"More than once." Gendry said in a heavy voice. "She's done it so often."

"You should come down and eat." Allyn suggested again.

Gendry shook his head. "No, they can bring my food up here."

"Jon's coming, you know." Allyn reported. "After…."

"I don't want to think about that now." Gendry said. He was so tired.

Allyn stood there for a while longer saying nothing. He cared about Arya, too. Gendry knew that. All of the Northerners did. Anyone who fought in the Battle for the Dawn cared about Arya. She was the Bringer of the Dawn. She was a hero. No one liked to see their heroes like this.

The widow gave birth that night. A girl. Gendry had no choice but to leave her side then. His hand ached to touch her again. Gendry looked down at the baby in the wet nurse's arms. She had next to no hair and what she did have was so fair it disappeared against her reddened skin. Gendry congratulated the widow dutifully.

"Her name is Lia. After my mother." The widow told him. "Do you want to hold her?"

Gendry stared at the baby, sleeping soundly against the nurse's full chest. Gendry shook his head. "No. I should… I should be getting back."

Gendry hurried out of the birthing room and back to his chambers.

Arya opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds. She blinked and pulled herself upright. The blankets were cloth not fur. Yellow, not grey or white. She looked around. The fire was going, but it was only embers. No Northerner would let their fire burn down like that. Especially not in winter.

_Where the hell am I_? She pushed the blankets back and tried to fight the alarm at finding herself in a nightshirt she did not put on herself.

She took a slow breath and searched her memories. She remembered King's Landing. The fire. The blood. The chaos. She remembered finding the horse and riding away. Most of the trip afterward was lost to her. She wasn't in the North. She couldn't even remember starting North. She hadn't planned on making it out of the capital. She thought she would die in the same place her father, uncle, and grandfather had died. Instead, she was in a holdfast somewhere.

Somewhere she thought she should know. The woman's face appeared in her mind. The short hair. The little girl. The fire raining down on them as Arya hid away. The bodies turned to ash. The streets filled with broken buildings. Things Arya had wished for once. After Joffrey had executed her father. Arya had wished for the city to crumble into dust. It had taken a while, but the gods had answered her wish. Now she wished they hadn't.

The door opened. Arya rolled up onto her feet on the bed. She had no weapons. She didn't even know where her clothes were. But she could still fight. Claw out their eyes if she had to.

Gendry stared at her wide eyed and slack jawed. Arya felt tears hot on her cheeks. She took two great steps to the end of the bed and threw herself at him. Gendry caught her easily, his strong arms tight around her back. It hurt, but she didn't want him to let go.

"Gendry!" She gasped. Then she said it a few more times because it was all she could think. Gendry held her to him, one hand cupped the back of her head. The other locked around her waist. After a minute or two, he set her down.

Arya took a few deep breaths in an effort to collect herself. She was crying and couldn't stop now that she knew she was safe. Gendry pulled her back to the bed and sat her down. She didn't resist.

"J-Jon?" She worked out through a sob.

"He's fine. I won't lie. A lot has happened since the sack." Gendry explained.

Arya nodded. "And San–" Arya gasped back a sob. She should know this already. "San–"

"Sansa? She's fine. She's still in Winterfell with Bran."

Arya shook her head. "The Hound?"

Gendry frowned. He looked down and shook his head. "I'm sorry. They found him outside the Red Keep with his brother. Or… what used to be the Red Keep and what used to be his brother."

A sob wrenched its way out of her chest. "He sent me away." She managed. "He told me to go home. He told me…." Gendry's arms were around her again. He was shushing her and rocking her slowly like she was a child. It should have made her mad, but she only found comfort in it. "They all died. I tried. I _tried_ to save them. I tried to save the girl. The mother asked me to, but she wouldn't _come_ and I didn't go back for her." Arya sobbed again. "I didn't. The dragon came and I hid. I _hid_. Like I hid at the Twins. Like I hid when they killed my father. Like when they had you at Harrenhal. I did _nothing_! I did nothing! What the hell was I training for? I couldn't save _any of them_!"

"You saved me." Gendry told her.

"What does it matter that I killed the Night King? Tens of thousands of people burned to death anyway." Arya said, bitterly.

"I don't mean with the Night King. I mean back when we met. You saved me."

Arya pushed herself back to look at Gendry. "What are you talking about?"

"The Gold Cloaks were looking for me, remember? They attacked us on the way to the Wall and demanded to know where I was. You lied and said Lommy was me. You saved me that night and every day I'm alive is because of you."

Arya sniffled and gave a little shake. "That's not true."

"Yes it is." He insisted. "You were up against a dragon, Arya. You're lucky you made it out alive."

They fell into silence. Gendry kept his arms around her. She cried in sporadic fits she could neither predict nor control. They both fell asleep again, this time in each other's arms.

When they woke up again, Arya was starving. She sat up and stretched. Her ribs hurt with the slightest movement. She grimaced and tried to find the least painful position. Gendry was watching her. Concern was clear on his face. He was so open. Every emotion shone on his face.

"Is there anything to eat?" Arya asked.

Gendry smiled and nodded. He stood up and went to the wardrobe across the room. He pulled out a tunic and a pair of pants. Neither of which belonged to her. He passed them to her anyway.

Arya dressed silently, reminded of the last time she'd dressed in front of him. In the storeroom in Winterfell. The pants were loose even tied as tight as they'd go. The tunic was too large. She ended up dressed like she had been after Yoren had found her in King's Landing. Like a boy. One look at Gendry told her he was thinking the same thing.

"How long was I sleeping?" She asked as they stepped out into the corridor.

"Twelve and a half days." Gendry answered quickly.

Arya balked. "Almost two weeks?"

"You were nearly dead by the time you got here. No one could figure out how you managed it. They think you're some sort of war goddess." Gendry explained.

"No. I'm nothing like that." Arya said seriously.

Gendry gave her hand a squeeze and let it go. They reached the feast hall. Larger than the one in Winterfell. Where Winterfell's feast hall was long, Storm's End's hall was round. An enormous circle in the middle of the holdfast's singular tower. There was room for more people, but it was mostly empty save a few servants. Arya let Gendry lead her to the head table, the only one not shoved against the walls. He watched her sit down so she tried to keep the pained expression off her face.

"Bring us something to eat, please." Gendry called to one of the servants.

The girl nodded, gave a bow, and scurried off to the kitchens. Arya looked at Gendry and smiled. A panicked look came over his face. He looked around the room and back at her. His cheeks were turning pink.

"What?" He asked.

Arya shook her head, still smiling. "Nothing. …_Lord_ Gendry."

Gendry flushed deeply and looked down at the table. "Shut up." He mumbled.

Arya licked her lips excitedly. "As you wish, _M'lord_." She teased.

Gendry dropped his head into his hands in an effort to hide his embarrassment. A man entered the hall. Arya turned away from Gendry and looked at him. He was a Northerner. She could tell straight away. He was missing his left arm. A fairly recent injury. The Battle for the Dawn, she figured.

"Princess Arya, you're awake!" The man cried. He bent his knee and bowed to her. Arya scrunched her face up at the man.

"Excuse me?" She demanded of him.

The man raised his head to her. He looked between her and Gendry. "You haven't heard?"

Arya looked at Gendry. He was glaring hard at the one-armed man. Arya smacked his chest. He looked down at her and grimaced.

"Jon's King." He explained.

Arya let out a heavy sigh and leaned back in her chair, wincing slightly at the ache in her ribs. "A Targaryen sits the throne again." She mumbled. "Figured it was going to be something like that."

Servants entered with platters of food. Arya's stomach rumbled excitedly. She reached for the first thing she could see and shoved it in her mouth.

"You already knew?" Gendry said.

"He didn't want it." Arya said. She filled her plate with as much as would fit.

"Slow down, Arry, food's not going anywhere." Gendry laughed.

"Is that a command, _Lord _Gendry?" She said around a mouthful of meat.

Gendry rolled his eyes. "I just don't want you to choke. You just spent nearly two weeks in bed."

Arya shrugged indifferently. Even eating hurt her ribs. Like she was breaking her bones outward.

"Princess Arya," the man started.

"Don't call me that." Arya growled.

"Er… My Lady," Arya rolled her eyes at the title, but didn't argue again. "Your sister wrote a week ago asking about you. She was wondering why it is you came here instead of heading back to Winterfell."

Arya swallowed the food in her mouth and glanced at Gendry. He looked away, pretending to see something curious in the hall's rafters. She frowned down at her plate.

"Storm's End is closer to King's Landing than Winterfell. I wasn't suited to a long journey in my condition so I came here instead." Arya answered.

The one armed man nodded in understanding. "And now you're recovered should I write and tell your sister to expect you soon?"

Arya chewed at her lip. She glanced at Gendry again, but he still wasn't looking at her. She cleared her throat. "I can write my sister myself." She told the man.

He looked at Gendry uncertainly. Gendry met the man's eyes and shifted in his seat. He furrowed his brow in that way that always meant he was thinking hard.

"Of course, you're welcome to stay here as long as you wish." Gendry said. Then hastily added, "Lady Arya."

She kicked him under the table somewhat reflexively. "Thank you, My Lord."

It felt like they were children playing a game. Not one of the fun ones that she used to play with the boys, but the ones Sansa used to play. Two kids playing castle.

No sooner had the one armed man taken his leave, than an older man appeared. Arya looked him up and down. He wasn't a northman. She went back to her eating. She was starving.

"So glad to see you up and about, Princess Arya." The man said. Arya glared at him.

"Arya, this is Gilbert Farring. My castellan." Gendry said, quickly.

"A great pleasure to meet you, Princess. I have heard a great deal about you from your family's bannermen. You are something of a legend though you gave us quite a fright the way you showed up." Gilbert Farring told her.

"If I was rude, I apologize. I wasn't feeling myself." She said, politely. Still playing at castle.

Gilbert smiled and shook his head. "Think nothing of it, Princess."

Arya opened her mouth to snap at him for the title, but Gendry's voice came out instead. "Have Pylos and Jurne been told she is awake yet?"

Gilbert nodded. "I have some servants setting up a chamber for her near the Curtain Wall."

"No." Gendry said, quickly. Arya looked at him curiously. He blushed. "I mean…." Gendry didn't finish saying what he meant. He just slumped down in his chair and covered his mouth and nose with his hand.

"There aren't windows on the seaward side, are there?" Arya asked, remembering what she'd been told about Storm's End. Robert Baratheon, for all his faults had, once been her father's best friend.

"No, Princess." Gilbert confirmed.

"Then I'd prefer a room there."

Gilbert gave her an appeasing smile. "Princess, the only rooms on that side are the kitchens and the dungeons." He explained as if he were explaining it to a child.

"So prepare a cell in the dungeon." Arya told him dryly.

Gilbert's eyes went wide and he looked to Gendry frantically. Gendry was shaking his big shoulders beside her. He glanced between Gilbert and Arya and burst out laughing. Arya smacked him in the back of the head. It had little effect.

"Idiot." She accused.

Gendry cleared his throat and sobered. His face was red from laughing. Arya liked the way he looked when he was flushed. She liked the way he looked working a piece of steel in the forge, too, but a giddy Gendry was just as nice.

"Do as the lady says." Gendry told his castellan.

Gilbert left flabbergasted to see to a cell in the dungeons being outfitted as a lady's chamber. Arya finished eating and stood up. Gendry leapt to his feet and held his hands out uselessly. Arya took his hand and pulled him back the way they'd come.

"Alright, My Lord, show me your castle."

Arya was different. Every so often, she would shut herself inside her makeshift bed chamber on the seaward side and wouldn't speak for a day or two. The first time it happened, Gendry was concerned. He fretted away in the smithy until she finally revealed herself. It had grown less frequent in recent weeks and Gendry thought she might finally be feeling better.

He had been hesitant for her to meet the widow. They were still Lannisters even if the lord was dead. He should have known better. Arya took a shine to them both almost immediately. She tucked Little Lia into her arms and smiled down at the babe. The sight made Gendry's heart ache. War and carnage hadn't done anything to dispel the love he felt for her.

Gendry had gone back to his usual routine for the most part. He worked in the smithy most of the day, stopping only when Gilbert or Allyn appeared to remind him of his lordly duties. Then he would scratch his head and mumble some semblance of an answer and go back to work.

Arya appeared in his forge after a month or so. He could feel her eyes on him as he worked. He peeked up at her. She licked her lip before catching it between her teeth and arching her eyebrow at him. He barely stopped himself from slamming her against the wall and taking her then and there.

"My Lord, we have to discuss the matters of rent. If we keep things as they stand, we will begin losing income." Gilbert stopped and stared at Arya. Clearly surprised to see her there.

"Why are you losing income?" Arya asked.

Gendry's brows shot up. He hadn't thought to ask why. He just trusted they were. Gilbert looked between Gendry and Arya. Gendry nodded at him to answer the question.

"Wars cost more than money, My Lady." Gilbert had learned not to call Arya Princess before dinner that first day. "The farmers who rented the land have died. The fields have become barren. Farms sit decaying from disuse. Without tenants to pay the rent or farm the fields, Storm's End is losing revenue."

Arya frowned. He knew she was thinking about all the innocents she couldn't save.

"What do you suggest?" Gendry asked his castellan.

Gilbert shuffled a few papers in his arms. "I suggest we raise the rent on our surviving tenants to make up for the losses. We've left it at five gold dragons before and after every harvest. I suggest we raise it to fifteen."

"You can't do that." Arya said.

Gilbert glared at her. She met his stare evenly.

"These are matters for men and lords, My _Lady_." Gilbert said.

"I've killed men bigger, tougher, and smarter than you, Gil." Arya warned. "If you raise the rents that much, your people won't have enough money left over to feed themselves. You may not have many tenants now, but if you raise the rents you won't have any because the ones that are left will have starved to death."

"You have a better idea?" Gendry asked interestedly.

Arya frowned. "Well, no." She admitted.

Gendry nodded. "Let me think on it." He told his castellan.

Gilbert left no doubt angry at having been told off by someone so small. Gendry set his tongs on his workbench and walked over to Arya. She put her hand over her ribs and frowned. Gendry tipped his head at her.

"Are your ribs still hurting you?" He asked.

Arya shook her head. "No, I probably just had some bad fish or something."

Gendry wanted to touch her. He wanted to kiss her. He held his hands behind his back. Arya looked up at him seriously.

"Sansa wrote me." She told him. "She wants me to go back to Winterfell."

Gendry felt his throat tighten. He tried for a smile and nodded. "Well, she's probably feeling a bit lonely. Bran's her only company right now."

"She said Bran told her something she doesn't want to believe and she'll only tell me what it was if I go back."

Gendry frowned. "She thinks she needs to bribe you to get you back home?"

Arya opened her mouth, paused, and decided against whatever it was she was going to say. She looked down at his chest. He was only in a dirty undershirt. He watched her swallow. Her eyes went back to his. He settled his hand on her waist. Her hand went to his chest and slid up until she could pull his head down to hers.

Gendry breathed in as he kissed her. He tugged her closer and deepened the kiss. Arya was pulling at him. Pawing at him. He grabbed her hands and pushed her back. Arya stared up at him with her wide, grey eyes. They weren't on their way to death now. And they weren't married. Everything about it was a bad idea, but Gendry couldn't say no to her.

He took her to his rooms. Back to the bed she lay in for two weeks while he worried she might die. Gendry pulled her tunic off and kissed her again. Arya pressed herself against him, her legs wrapped around his waist. He stroked her cheek softly, touching her everywhere.

"The wars are over." She said quietly.

"Hmm?" Gendry reached over and brushed some of her hair from her face. "They have been for a few weeks now. Unless some other wannabe king or queen appears from the dust."

"That's what I'm saying. Why can't we just get new farmers into the houses? Let them work the fields." Arya explained.

Gendry frowned at her. "New workers from where?"

Arya shrugged. "Anywhere. They just need to pay the first year's rent anyway."

Gendry sighed. "You are way better at this lordly business than I am." He told her.

She smiled at him. "You just need practice."

Gendry leaned over and kissed her slowly. She sighed against his mouth giving him the chance to dip his tongue into her mouth to taste her. She responded passionately. She grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him back vigorously. It made Gendry chuckle.

"I love you." He said before he could stop himself.

Arya froze. She leaned back and looked at him. Gendry dropped his gaze. He kept fucking it up.

"I love you, too."

Gendry's eyes snapped back to hers. His heart nearly stopped.

"You do?"

Arya smiled tenderly at him and pet his cheek. "Always have. Even when I was just Arry the orphan boy."

Gendry grinned and bent to kiss her again. "You were never a boy."

"Good thing, too."

Gendry frowned. "Why do they have to pay rent before they've even harvested anything?" Gendry mused. "The farms are all falling to ruin anyway. If they fix them back up that should pay first rent and then they can pay the other half once they've sold their harvest. Right?" Gendry reasoned. "Or is that stupid?"

Arya smiled at him. "It's not stupid. You should ask Gil if there is enough in the castle stores to last a year or two on what you have."

Gendry dropped his head onto her naked chest and groaned. "I don't want to."

Arya laughed at him. "Don't be a baby."

Gendry looked up at her and stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. "Come with me?"

"What do you mean?"

Gendry rolled over and flopped onto his back. "Well, it's half your idea anyway."

"You want me to talk to your castellan with you about matters concerning your holdfast?" Arya said like he was asking for something absurd.

"Fine. I'm terrible at this. I know. I never would've thought of this is you weren't there when Gilbert was ambushing me."

Arya laughed again. "Ambushed? He found you where you always are and asked you to do your job."

"Davos was supposed to be here helping me do this all, you know?" Gendry told her. "Said he would and where is he now?"

"How about I write to Jon? I'll tell him to send some of their homeless here for work." Arya offered.

"Dunno how you do it." Gendry told her.

"Do what?"

"Everything. You do everything so easily. Running a holdfast? Piece of cake for you. Killing the Night King? No problem. Writing a letter? Whatever." Gendry sighed and looked at her again. "You should be with someone better than me."

"Better than you?" Arya repeated. She sat up and looked down at him. "Gendry, there _is_ no one better than you."

His heart swelled at her words. Then it broke all over again when he remembered that she would not have him. In bed? Sure. But she wouldn't have him to wed.

"It isn't enough, is it?" He said softly.

Grief filled her face. She leaned down and kissed him again. It reminded him of the kiss she'd given him before she'd disappeared. Sad. Lonely. Distant.

"Do you remember what you said to me the night of the feast?" She asked.

Gendry shut his eyes to her. "I could never forget."

"Sandor told me to choose life. When I left King's Landing that was me trying to survive. But when I rode here instead of trying to get back to Winterfell that was me choosing life. I could leave for Winterfell any time I want. Do you know why I don't?"

Gendry swallowed hard. He didn't like to think about her leaving. "You're waiting until you're fully recovered. Shouldn't try for a long voyage in your condition."

Arya shook her head. "No, you stupid bull. I haven't left because none of it; choosing life, killing the Night King, learning how to protect the people I love, none of it means anything if you're not with me."

Gendry felt his heart in his throat.

"So be with me?" She asked more hesitantly.

Gendry crushed his mouth to hers.

"_Dear Sansa,_

_I think I know what Bran told you. That's why I don't think it will come as a surprise when I tell you I won't be coming back to Winterfell for a while. You are, of course, welcome to visit me at Storm's End. Jon is coming in a month. He doesn't know. Gendry doesn't know for that matter. And I have sworn the maesters to secrecy._

_Don't worry about me. I'm happy._

_Arya Stark"_

Arya settled her hand over her stomach. She was regaled as a hero even more so than Jon. She was the killer of the Night King. She was the bringer of the dawn. They sang songs about her in the same they would sing songs about the same way they sang about the Age of Heroes. Her child had been with her through it all. Through the worst of it. Pylos didn't think it was possible, but she was more than two months along.

She rolled up the scroll and handed it to Jurne. He attached it to a raven and sent it on its way. Arya watched it fly North. She remembered something Tyrion had said about her mother and his sister. They both loved their children. They both would have done anything to protect them. Arya would learn from their mistakes.

She would protect her child for as long as it needed her, but she would also make sure that it learned to protect itself. Gendry would protect it, too. She had no doubt in her mind. As soon as she told him, she expected him to disappear into his forge and come out with some ridiculous armor for her to wear for the duration.

"The sooner you are married, the better." Jurne reminded her. "Soon there will be no hiding it."

"Maybe I should write Jon again." She said.

She picked up a piece of paper and scrawled a short note to her brother before rolling it up and handing it to Jurne. She smiled.

"He should be here before the week is up." She announced before heading back down the stairs to the lord's chambers.

Horns sounded four days later. Gendry picked up his Warhammer and started for the gates just as Jon charged through the gates on the Curtain Wall. He didn't wait for the stable boy to steady his horse before he bounded out of his saddle and hurried toward her.

He pulled her into a crushing hug before pushing her back and looking her over. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Arya smiled at him. "I'm fine. You sure took your time getting here."

Jon's face fell. He dug into his pocket and pulled out her letter. "What the hell is this?" He demanded.

Arya looked down at it.

_Jon,_

_I need help. Please hurry._

_Arya_

"Oh. That." She said as if she'd forgotten about it. "I didn't pull you away from anything important, did I, Your Majesty?"

"My King." Gendry said, dropping his Warhammer and going to his knee. Arya looked at him and gasped. She dropped down to her knee, too, and bowed her head.

"Not you, too!" Jon cried. "Get up! Both of you! Get up!"

Arya got to her feet and felt her stomach give a lurch. She masked it away and grinned at Jon. "So bossy now you're a king." She teased.

"You, watch it." Jon warned. He turned to Gendry and shook his hand with a smile. "Lord Baratheon."

"King Jon." Gendry returned. "I wasn't expecting you until next month."

Jon looked pointedly at Arya. "Show him what you sent me."

Arya glared at her brother and handed her note to Gendry. Gendry squinted down at the words. She could hear him sounding out the words under his breath. He jerked his head up and looked at Arya bewildered.

"What happened?" He asked in clear panic.

Arya rolled her eyes at him and snatched the note away. "Nothing happened." She told him. "Yet."

"Yet?" Jon and Gendry said at the same time. They exchanged a look before staring back down at Arya.

"Maybe we should go inside?" Jon suggested.

Gendry nodded and led the way into the Round Hall. Jon looked around impressed. The room was brighter now than when Arya had first seen it. The whole castle was brighter. Arya frowned as the rest of Jon's King's Guard trampled into the room.

"I think it should be the study." She suggested. Gendry looked at her and swallowed nervously. He glanced at Jon and back at her.

"I see you still have Longclaw." Gendry said as they walked up the staircase to the study.

"And you still have your hammer." Jon returned, obliviously. "And you're still working a forge going by the state of you."

"Keeps my head clear." He admitted.

Arya stepped inside the study and found her favorite seat by the window overlooking the fields. Gendry offered Jon his seat and went to stand by the desk. Jon squinted between the two of them. Arya wondered if he had figured them out yet.

"You look better." Jon told Arya. "I was told you had a fever. You didn't wake up for weeks."

"Twelve days." Arya corrected.

"You feel better now, though?"

Arya nodded.

"Sansa's worried about you. She said Bran told her something about you that worried her, but she wouldn't tell me what it was. Did she tell you?"

"No. She told me about Bran's… vision, but she didn't tell me what it was."

Jon sighed and nodded. "I expect she'll tell you when you get back home."

He looked at Gendry. "Thank you for looking after her. I know you've probably had a lot to do here anyway. I'm just glad she had somewhere to heal."

Gendry nodded, his mouth hanging open as he tried out the right words. Arya smiled.

"Davos sends his regards. I left him behind to oversee things. He would have been with me next month." Jon assured his friend.

"Right, well, that's more important anyway." Gendry answered.

"Jon?" Arya started. "I'm not planning on going back to Winterfell right now."

Jon stared at her. "Where do you plan on going?"

Arya ran her fingers up and down the leather of the armrest. "I'm going to stay here."

Jon squinted at her. "Here in Storm's End? Why?"

Gendry cleared his throat, but when Jon looked at him he blushed and stared at his feet. Arya sighed and crossed her arms, waiting. Gendry glanced up at her and grimaced. He cleared his throat again and shuffled his feet.

"We want to get married." Gendry confessed.

Jon was quiet. Arya watched the gears turn in her brother's head. He looked from Gendry to Arya.

"You want to be married?" Jon asked incredulously. "_You_?"

"Well, we would've been already if the damned bull hadn't been so stubborn." Arya said, glaring at Gendry without animosity. He smirked back.

"What bull?"

Arya waved her hand at Gendry.

Jon pointed at him and leaned toward Arya. "House Baratheon's sigil is a stag, not a bull."

"Bastards don't have sigils." Gendry said from his spot by the desk.

"He made one up for himself. Isn't that sweet?" Arya cooed. Gendry rolled his eyes at her.

"How do you know that?"

Arya looked at Gendry. "I thought you said you were friends. You didn't tell him about me?"

Gendry looked between the two stammering wildly. "I – I didn't…. You weren't – _we_ weren't, uh…." He shook his head as if clearing away all the stray thoughts. He took a breath. "I met Arya at King's Landing when she was dressed as a boy. Yoren was taking me to the Wall and her home to Winterfell. We, uh, didn't make it."

Jon sat back and stared at a spot on the floor. She watched his face as he processed. His dark eyebrows lifted up and he shook his head. "So those rumors were true, then."

"Rumors?" Arya repeated.

Jon nodded. "Something about you and one of the smiths. I think the exact wording was, 'toying with him' I just figured it was about a weapon."

"Tomorrow." Arya said, standing up. "We want to be married tomorrow."

Jon snorted and shook his head. "Tomorrow, she says. I haven't even given my blessing."

Arya stared at him coldly. "You haven't given your _what_?"

Jon scowled at her and got to his feet to match her. "My _blessing_. I haven't agreed to it."

"Are _you_ getting married to him?"

"Arya, this is not how these things are done!"

"When have I _ever_ done things how they were meant to be done?" Arya challenged.

"Just this _once_ can you listen to me?" Jon begged.

"If I had listened to you in Winterfell, we'd all be White Walkers right now. 'Stay with Sansa in the crypt' you said."

"This is not that!" Jon argued. "This is marriage! What if you have children someday? What do you think Father would say if he were here?"

Arya stopped and looked over at Gendry. She smiled as she remembered what her father had said to her. "Father wouldn't have said anything. He would've made the match already himself."

Gendry stared at her in surprise. His blue eyes shining.

"How do you know?" Jon demanded.

Arya rolled her eyes. "Has it ever occurred to you that Father may have spent a bit more time talking to his daughters about marriage than his sons? Besides, I spent more time with him in King's Landing."

Jon looked over to Gendry and sighed. "You really want to marry her?"

Gendry smiled. "Yes."

"We should wait for Sansa and Bran to get here." Jon said resignedly.

Arya shook her head. "Tomorrow. Or the end of the week at the latest."

Jon squinted at her. "Why?"

Arya looked over at Gendry and chewed at her lip. "Sansa knows already. It's what Bran told her."

"What does Sansa know? What did Bran tell her?" Jon demanded.

Arya scrunched up her face. She sighed in defeat and looked over to meet Gendry's eyes. "I'm with child."

Gendry's face went ghost white. He took two great steps over to her and scooped her up. Arya laughed and kissed him momentarily forgetting Jon was still in the room. Gendry set her down and rested his forehead against hers, his hands pressed firmly on her flat belly. She covered his hands with her own.

Jon collapsed back into his chair. Arya pulled back from Gendry to look at him. His hand was pulling at his face. Arya laid her head against Gendry's chest. His heart was beating fast. His excitement made her smile.

"Tomorrow, then, Jon?" She asserted. "In the Godswood?"

"It would be…? During the feast?" He said slowly.

"What?"

"You wouldn't know yet. It had to happen before in Winterfell." Jon said.

"You want details?" Arya asked. Gendry shifted beside her uncomfortably.

Jon looked over at her. "No." He shook his head. "I don't want to know."

"Alright. Tomorrow, Jon." Arya told him.

Jon nodded, numbly. "Tomorrow, Jon." He repeated absently.

Arya looked up at Gendry and smiled. He bent his head and kissed her lightly.

"How long have you known?" Gendry asked later when they were alone. A hard won feat with Jon around.

Arya was sharpening Needle with a whetstone. Gendry was determined not to baby her now that he knew. At least, not until they were good and married. He still worried that he was going to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and she was going to run off back to Winterfell or worse and he would never see her again. Or their child.

"A week." She said, settling back into her task.

"A week." He repeated. A week was after she told him to wanted to be with him. So she wanted to be his wife before she knew about the baby. He smiled to himself. _Unless she's lying_.

"You think I care if my child is born a bastard or not?" Arya said evenly. "I could go to Essos and give it any name I pleased. No one would check. Or I could stay here and say the child's father died in the wars." She looked up at him. "I'm here because I love you."

Gendry grinned at her. He was seated at his desk with a ledger before him. He had long since given up trying to make sense of the scribbles. This time tomorrow, he'd be a married man. A married man married to Arya Stark. Arya Stark who was carrying their child in her belly. His heart felt full enough to burst.

"We probably shouldn't have any more children after this one." Gendry said, seriously.

Arya looked up at him again. Her brow wrinkled together. "I thought you'd want loads of children."

Gendry shrugged. "That was before I knew about this one."

Arya frowned down at her belly. "What's wrong with this one?" She demanded, already getting defensive.

"They've already lived through the Battle for the Dawn _and_ the Battle of King's Landing. They've been in battles with Night Kings _and_ dragons. And they haven't even taken their first breath yet." Gendry shrugged. "It's an awfully big legacy to live up to for any younger siblings they might have. That's just unfair. Their mother is already a legendary hero. It would be a shame for them to end up like me." Gendry joked.

Arya didn't smile. She set Needle down beside her and moved over to him. Gendry felt bad for saying it just looking at her face. He knew he'd say the wrong thing. But Arya cupped his face between her hands gently.

"You fought in the Vanguard during the Battle for the Dawn. You went beyond the Wall and captured the first White Walker to ever see King's Landing. You armed me and thousands of other soldiers who would have died otherwise. When I was broken and bloody and next to death, _you_sat beside me and nursed me back to life. If I could choose between us, I would want them to take after you."

Gendry pulled her into his lap and kissed her nice and slow. Arya curled herself around him. He felt her tense around him before she pulled back from their kiss. She leaned her forehead against his and sighed heavily. Before he could ask what was wrong, the door opened.

"Seven hells!" Jon crowed. "You can't even wait a few more hours?"

Gendry flushed and tried to move Arya off so he could stand, but she wouldn't budge. She frowned at Jon.

"I'm already with child. What more do you think is going to happen?" She challenged.

Gendry wanted to die.

Jon looked like he wanted to die, too. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the floor. "Could you… I just…. I need to talk to Gendry for a minute."

Gendry's stomach clenched in fear. Arya stared at Jon for a few silent seconds. He thought maybe she was going to refuse to leave. Instead, she bounced up out of his lap and left, grabbing her sword as she went.

Jon sighed and put his hands on his hips. He looked around the study as if it were his first time in there. Gendry tried to think of something to say. He could still feel Arya everywhere. He stood and went to the table to fill two cups with wine. He offered one to Jon who accepted it and drained it.

"Why didn't you tell me about her being with you on the way to the Wall?" Jon asked.

Gendry frowned into his cup. "I was ashamed, I suppose."

"Ashamed?" Jon repeated. He raised his black brows and gestured at the door with the hand holding his cup. "Have you been…?"

"No! No no no no no." Gendry said quickly. "No. Ashamed that I didn't keep her safe like I was meant to. Everything bad that's happened to her since, well, I feel it's sort of my fault."

"Dondarrion sold you. You did what you could and she's still alive."

Gendry shook his head and took a drink. "I was planning to join up with them. See Arya back to her mother and brother and go our separate ways. We wouldn't have been allowed to continue as we were anyway. Ladies couldn't be friends with bastard smiths." Gendry sat back in his chair. "Then I thought she was dead. From hearing about the Red Wedding all the way up to us on the ship to Eastwatch when you told me she was alive."

Jon nodded. "Never should've gone to Eastwatch. We never should've went north of the Wall after a wight. Everything would've been different. Probably better."

"It's not your fault, Jon. You couldn't have known."

"I could have. I should have listened to Sansa. But I didn't and now I pay the price." Jon said heavily.

"I'm glad for Daenerys." Gendry admitted. "I'd never be able to marry Arya without her. I never would've had a name to give our child. Those atrocities she committed… she did good things, too."

"Right, well, about Arya. I suppose I'm supposed to tell you not to hurt her, but I'm sure you already know that. And don't make her angry because she keeps her blades sharp. And, uh, I'm not a father. I don't know if I ever will be a father, but I think you'll do well." Jon reached out and patted him on the shoulder. "Good luck."

Gendry smiled. "I used up all my luck just meeting her."

Jon laughed at that. "Keep that mindset. You'll be fine."

Arya was screaming for him. Screaming like he'd never heard her scream before. Gendry pushed his way into the room. Nursemaids shoved at him desperately. Gendry deflected them all and surged toward his wife.

"Gendry!" She screamed and he could see the tears wet on her cheeks.

"My Lord, the husbands stay outside the birthing room!" Maester Jurne reprimanded.

Gendry fixed the man with a heavy stare. The maester paled and withered under his glare. Gendry turned and moved to crouch beside Arya. She grabbed his hand and squeezed harder than Gendry ever imagined she could. He wouldn't be holding a hammer for weeks.

"Gods! How did my mother do this five times?" She cried.

Gendry started to laugh, but swallowed it at the deadly look she gave him. He looked down her body and regretted it. Blood covered the bed below her legs. Gendry's stomach churned. Surely there shouldn't be _that_ much blood.

"Alright, Lady Baratheon," Maester Jurne said from his place at the foot of the bed. "Give us one more push and we should be through."

"We, he says." Arya said bitterly. "I don't see him pushing a person out of _his_ body."

Gendry smiled and pressed his lips to her sweaty forehead. "I love you."

Arya rolled her eyes at him and gave a push. She let out a gasp and Gendry knew she'd done it. She flopped back against the pillows and sucked in breaths. Gendry pressed his forehead to hers. She lifted her hand and laid it on his cheek so she could kiss him.

The baby crying made them both look away. A nursemaid took it and cleaned it off in a small tub near the window. Jurne was still between Arya's legs. Arya craned her neck to see around the nursemaid's rotund body.

"What is it?" She asked. "Boy or girl?"

"It's a boy." Jurne told her.

"A boy." She sighed.

Gendry knew she had wanted a girl. She'd said as much almost every day after she noticed her belly beginning to grow. She had only agreed to names for girls. She like Wenda best even though Gendry had suggested Catelyn. But Wenda was a warrior.

"Disappointed?" Gendry asked.

The nursemaid brought him over in a bundle of blankets and laid her in Arya's arms. Gendry stared down at his son. And there was no mistaking it was his son. A thick crop of dark hair sprouted from the top of his tiny head. Grey eyes blinked up at them.

"Oh," Arya murmured staring down at him.

Gendry reached out to run a finger down the baby's plump cheek. He yawned and turned into Arya's chest. Gendry didn't think he'd ever fall in love again until he saw his son lying in his wife's arms. He couldn't understand how his father had had so many bastards and just disregarded them all. Gendry couldn't imagine leaving this baby if the sky began to fall in on them.

"What do we call him?" Gendry asked.

Arya stared down at him. "Gendry?"

"Hmm?"

"No, I meant, we could call him Gendry."

Gendry laughed and shook his head. "No, we couldn't."

"Why not? I want him to grow up to be just like you."

Gendry kissed her temple and rested his forehead there. "What about Eddard?" He offered.

Arya frowned. "No." She said sadly. "I don't think I could do that."

"Alright. You know this would be a lot easier if you'd let us think of boy names months ago." He teased.

Arya leaned her head back. "I thought if I only thought up girl names, we'd get a girl."

"Look how that worked out."

Arya smiled. "We don't have to decide right now. He won't know any better."

Gendry frowned. He didn't like the idea of his son going around without a name, but he conceded. The nursemaid came and took the baby from Arya's arms.

"You need to rest now, M'lady. You have the rest of your life to hold him." The nursemaid promised.

Arya gave a tired nod. "But don't make me sleep here." She said. "And let me take a bath first."

Gendry nodded. "You heard her," he told one of the servants, "go prepare a bath in the Lord's chambers."

Arya smiled up at him. "You're getting so good at that."

He scooped Arya up into his arms ignoring the feel of fresh blood still wet on her legs. Jurne was packing up a kit near the nursemaid. He looked over at them, eyes wide.

"Careful now!"

"Its fine, Jurne."

He carried Arya from the birthing room and up all the stairs to their chambers. Arya was sleeping on his shoulder by the time he got there. The bath was half filled when he brought her inside. It took them only a few minutes longer to fill it the rest of the way.

Gendry pulled her shirt off of her, careful to avoid getting blood on her. Then he settled her into the tub. She moaned and sighed at the warm water. Gendry grabbed a washcloth and cleaned the sweat from her face remembering the last time he'd bathed her. When she'd come to him less than a year ago covered in blood and dirt and ash half dead.

"Arya?" Gendry whispered.

Arya turned her head toward him but kept her eyes shut. Gendry leaned forward and kissed her again. She kissed him back.

"We have a son." She mumbled. Gendry smiled.

"We do."

"I should write Jon and Sansa."

"I can write them." Gendry offered.

Arya smiled. "You aren't tired?"

"It's barely passed noon."

Arya frowned. "Then why am I so sleepy?" She demanded.

Gendry laughed. "Because you didn't sleep last night and spent all your energy giving birth to our son."

Arya smiled again. "Our son."

"We could name him after your brother." Gendry offered.

"Which one?"

"Pick one."

"Robb?" She frowned. "No more Robert Baratheons."

"We could name him after your creepy brother, Brandon. Brandon Baratheon."

Arya reached up and covered his mouth with her wet hand. "He was joking, Bran. Please don't look at me while I'm naked."

Gendry pulled his face away and looked around the room. "Bran's not here, Arya."

Arya shook her head. "You never know."

"Rickon? Rickon Baratheon?" Gendry said, remembering her youngest brother's name.

Arya hummed thoughtfully. She grabbed his shoulder and tried to stand up. Gendry grabbed her up from the tub and helped her into a fresh nightshirt. She sighed against the pillows.

"I can breathe lying on my back again." She marveled. Gendry laughed.

"What do you think? Rickon Baratheon?"

Arya frowned and shook her head. She was quiet for a long while, staring down at her empty belly. "What about Sandor?" She suggested quietly as if she weren't sure herself.

"Sandor? As in Sandor _Clegane_? The Hound?" Gendry rubbed his eye. "Wasn't he on your list? You wanted him dead. I remember very clearly when you tried to kill him. Next thing you know you'll be suggesting the name Joffrey."

Arya eyed him coldly. "Fine. Forget I said it." She rolled onto her side, putting her back to him.

Gendry touched her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. Gendry frowned. He waited until he was certain she was asleep and headed to the study to write up the letters to her siblings.

"Arya?" Gendry asked later that night.

The baby was cradled in her arms suckling her. She looked up at him, waiting. She was naked. He could see the scars along her body new and old.

"Why do you want to name him Sandor?"

Arya looked down at their son. She stroked a hand over his black hair and smiled at him. "The Hound fought for me. He saved my life. He protected me. He cared for me. I couldn't protect him. I went to King's Landing ready to die. I wouldn't be here if he hadn't told me to leave. _He _wouldn't be here now if he hadn't." Arya jostled the baby gently in her arms. "Sandor Clegane lived his whole life focused on death. I just think maybe I owe him this life."

Gendry nodded slowly. The Hound had been a mean bastard, but he had saved his life more than once. Gendry sighed. Just because they would share a name didn't mean they would share their personalities.

"Sandor Baratheon."

"Stark." Arya said absently.

"What?"

Arya looked up at him and shook her head. "Nothing."

Two days later, Sansa Stark arrived in Storm's End. Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne were with her. Sansa dismounted and came to greet Gendry. She smiled at him warmly. Gendry hadn't even known Sansa knew who he was until she had started asking him about her sister.

"I only just sent a raven a few days ago." Gendry told her.

Sansa nodded. "Bran told me three weeks ago."

Someone shouted and tackled him from nowhere. Gendry stared in amazement at Tormund Giantsbane. He smiled at the wild man.

"I heard you have a little one now. You dog! With the slayer of the Night King no less."

"Where is my sister?" Sansa asked.

Gendry cocked his head back toward Round Hall. He led them into the room where Arya was coddling Sandor. Color had come back to her face at last. She looked up when they entered. She smiled widely at her sister.

"Do I have to call you Lady Baratheon now?" Sansa said.

Arya frowned at her and narrowed her eyes. "Don't you dare."

Gendry reached his hands down for their son. Arya deposited him in his waiting arms and stood to hug her sister. Sansa looked down at the baby with fascination. Arya smiled proudly.

"What's his name?"

"Sandor." Arya reported.

"Sandor." Sansa repeated. "Good. That's good."

"I tried to get her to call him Eddard." Gendry explained, thinking the expression on her face was dissatisfaction.

"Why didn't you?"

Arya looked at the baby. "It hurts too much to think that he'll never get to meet him. Naming him Eddard would just be a constant reminder."

Sansa smiled at the baby. "Father would have _loved_ him."

"Do you want to hold him?" Gendry offered.

Sansa looked uncertain. Arya laughed and nudged her sister forward. "It's alright. He doesn't bite. He doesn't even have teeth yet."

"He's lovely." Brienne commented serenely. Arya looked over at the woman.

"Thank you."

"I heard childbirth is the most painful experience in the world next to actually dying." Podrick offered.

Arya tipped her head. "It was no picnic."

"I still can't hold my hammer." Gendry said. Gendry held up his hand, faded blue and purple bruises in the shape of Arya's fingers covered his hand.

"You were in the room with her?" Sansa said, surprised.

Gendry flushed. "She was screaming…." He muttered.

"It _hurt_."

Gendry looked up at her. "I know. I was just… I couldn't leave you to scream on your own. Could I?"

Arya smiled and blushed. Gendry cleared his throat and looked around at his guests. He looked over to Gilbert.

"Gil, would you show our guests to their rooms, please?" Gendry asked.

Gilbert inclined his head dutifully. Sansa handed Sandor back to Arya and followed Brienne and Podrick after Gilbert. Tormund stayed behind, grinning at Gendry and Arya. He looked down at the baby warmly.

"Clegane was a good man." He said. "I'm sure he'd be happy to hear you named your son after him."

Arya snorted. "He'd be pissed! He'd scowl and call me an idiot wolf bitch with her idiot wolf pup. The name suits him. Pissing off the Hound is just a perk."

"He's a stag, though, isn't he?" Gendry said.

Arya sighed and looked down at their son. "I suppose we'll just have to see."

She turned and started out of the room with the baby in her arms.

"What do you mean by that?" Gendry asked her as she went. Arya gave a twirl and arched her brow at him. "Don't you give me that! What do you mean we'll have to see?"

Arya didn't answer or stop. Gendry scowled. He didn't know why it mattered so much to him that his son be a Baratheon stag more than a Stark wolf. It wasn't like he had grown up with a sigil. His son had two. That was a good thing.

"Sorry turn of events those wars ended up, eh?" Tormund graveled beside him. "I heard King Jon is trying to rebuild the city."

Gendry turned back to face the wildling alarmed to see him bare chested and standing before him. Gendry looked at his furs he'd dropped on the table.

"You want to be naked, go to your rooms. Don't do it here."

Tormund groaned. "It's too hot in the bloody south. I dunno how you can do it."

"It's snowing outside." Gendry argued.

"It's _hot._" Tormund insisted.

"Then go be hot in your rooms."

Tormund grabbed his furs and tucked them under his arm. "Suppose it's this hot in the city?"

The widow came in carrying Lia just then. She looked stunned to see Tormund in the middle of Round Hall half naked. Lia was sitting up on her own now and looking around with interest.

"Another baby?" Tormund looked at Gendry. "That one's not yours, right?"

Gendry narrowed his eyes at the man. "Does it _look_ like it's mine?" He demanded.

Tormund looked between Gendry and the fair haired baby. He frowned and shook his head. "Nah, the baby's prettier." Tormund laughed at his own joke and slapped Gendry on the back before making his way towards Gilbert and their rooms.

"I didn't know you were going to have guests." The widow said. "I would have stayed in my room."

Gendry shook his head. "It's fine. Did you need something, Lady Lannister?"

The widow smiled sadly and shook her head. "The Lannister name isn't really worth much these days. All the fortune dried up. Lands have been given away to those loyal to the new king."

"_I'm_ loyal to the new king." Gendry reminded her.

She nodded. Little Lia cooed at him from her mother's arms. "I know. I have no mind for treason. I only think it is time I find somewhere to raise Lia that isn't with the people responsible for her father's death."

Gendry met the widow's eyes for one of the first times ever. "Little Lia's family is responsible for my father's death. The death of my siblings. Some of them were younger than Lia is now when the Lannisters murdered them. Lannisters tried to kill me. Time and again. Because of who my father was. Considering all that, wouldn't you think I have more reason to hate your family than you have cause to hate mine?"

The widow looked abashed now. She looked away. "This is the longest conversation we've ever had. Maybe the longest conversation you've had with anyone here that isn't your wife."

Gendry smiled. "I think Gilbert has you beat."

The widow nodded. "Regardless, I think it's best I leave Storm's End."

Gendry nodded. "Just don't leave without letting Arya say goodbye to Lia."

The widow smiled. "Still upset Sandor isn't Wenda?"

Gendry sighed. "I dunno, I think he's grown on her."

"Winterfell!" Sandor screamed eagerly. He wriggled on the saddle in front of Gendry until Arya moved over and settled him in front of her and gave him a pinch on his ear.

"Keep up with your squirming and I'm sticking you in the wheelhouse." Arya warned. "Calm as still water."

Sandor stilled in front of her obediently. She could still feel his excitement as they grew closer. Arya waited until Gendry dismounted and collected Sandor from the saddle before swinging down herself.

No sooner had Gendry set Sandor on the ground than he bolted toward the Godswood. Arya groaned and started after him.

"Sandy!" She shouted.

"I wanna see it! I wanna see!" He yelled back.

Arya caught him up just before they reached the Weirwood. She swung him around until he was hanging by his ankles. Sandor giggled. He swung himself up so he could grab Arya's arm and right himself. His thick, black hair flopped over his eyes. He kicked away from her, but she caught him again.

"Hello, Arya."

She looked up at her brother. A beard had sprouted along his jaw. His hair was pulled back from his face. The only thing that seemed unchanged was the wheelchair and that knowing expression on his face.

"Do you _ever_ leave?" She demanded.

Bran gave her a slight smile. Arya let Sandor go and walked over to hug her brother. Sandor stood behind her, staring at Bran curiously. Arya settled her hand on his head. She ruffled the raven black locks affectionately.

"Can you introduce yourself?" She asked. Sandor stared at Bran apprehensively with his big, grey eyes. She sighed. "Fear cuts deeper than swords."

Sandor looked at the ground and nodded. "My name is Sandy Stark." Arya laughed and nudged him with her knee. "I mean Sandy Baratheon!" He corrected.

"Yes, you're only Sandy Stark when you're training with your mother." Bran agreed.

Sandor's eyes grew wide. "How do you know?"

Bran smiled. "I know everything."

Sandor frowned. "Nuh uh. Do you know how old I am?"

"Six years, one month, and eleven days." Bran replied easily.

Sandor looked up at Arya in surprise. He smiled and looked back at Bran. "Do you know how many battles I've been in?" He asked as if he'd fought in them himself.

"Two." Bran answered.

Sandor was bouncing up and down on his toes excitedly. "Do you know I'm a prince?" He demanded.

"Sandor!" Arya berated.

Sandor froze and looked up at his mother and down at the ground. "I'm not supposed to tell people that."

"I know." Bran told him easily.

Sandor looked up at his uncle then over at his mother. Arya sighed and nodded at her son. Sandor gave Bran a small smile.

"My Uncle Jon says he wants me to be his heir since he won't have any children only Mum doesn't want me to since kings and queens always die." Sandor explained.

"Everybody dies. Kings or not. Your mother knows that."

"You mean because she's a warrior?" Sandor asked.

Bran smiled. "I mean because she is _the_ warrior. She's looked death in the face more times than even she remembers."

Arya frowned at that. She remembered all the times she almost died just fine. Didn't she?

"Would you like to hear about them, Sandy?" Bran asked Sandor.

"Yes, _please_!" Sandor begged, scrambling onto Bran's lap.

"I think he'd be more interested to hear about you. Or Sansa or Jon even." Arya said. "Or you could tell him about his grandfathers."

Sandor was wide eyed and eager. "I want to hear about everyone! Tell me about everyone!" Sandor begged.

Bran thought for a moment and nodded. "Alright. Then this story will start North of the Wall with three rangers of the Night's Watch."

Gendry was suddenly beside Arya. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into his chest. Sandor had gone still on Bran's lap. Rapt with interest. Sansa came to her other side and gave her hand a squeeze. Arya smiled up at her sister. Still so beautiful even after wars, grief, and bloodshed.

"They were hunting wildlings?" Sandor demanded, offended. "They're lucky Tormund wasn't hunting _them_!"

The trio laughed at that and Sandor turned and looked at his father. He grinned at Sansa, but before he could say anything Bran spoke again. Sandor's attention went back to the story.

"Something else was hunting them." Bran continued. "Something much more dangerous."

Sandor gasped. "White Walkers!"

Arya listened as Bran told their stories. He spoke of Father and Mother and Robb and Rickon and even Theon. Arya hadn't told Sandor about Theon. She had never worked out how she felt about her surrogate brother. The one who laughed when people would call her Arya Horseface. The one who betrayed her family. But Sansa and Jon had both forgiven him. So had Bran. So Arya had decided to forgive him, too.

Arya felt her eyes getting hot with tears as she watched her son surrounded by his family. Arya was surrounded by her family, too. She had spent so many years focused on death and revenge. So long thinking that she didn't deserve happiness after all she had done. But she was happy now. She hoped to be happy for the rest of her life. She hoped Sandor never knew a day of true grief, but knew he would. She could not protect him from that. She could only make sure he was prepared to face it when it came.


	5. No Walls

No Walls

She knew any ship that was sailing into the unknown would have to be built special. Bran was even able to give her a bit of insight as to what sorts of dangers to expect on the open sea. Little things that she knew would make all the difference. The wolf on the hull was a personal touch she hadn't thought to add until she saw the builders crafting a naked woman for the spot. Her men learned quick not to cross the wolf.

They planned to stop along the ports to stock up on supplies. King's Landing was down to tethers as it struggled to rebuild in the wake of a dragon. A few stops on the coast before setting sail would be good to adjust her sea legs. She'd never captained a ship before herself so it was good practice in that aspect as well.

They sailed for four days away from King's Landing. The bend around Massey's Hook took the longest as the winds went against them for just a moment. Then, it was smooth sailing down to Shipbreaker Bay. Arya spent all her time on deck. She slept a rare hour every now and again, but her cabin hardly knew her.

"Two ports coming up, Captain." Moryn, her first mate told her.

"Which two?" She asked. She'd glanced at the map, but her mind had focused ahead. Oldtown was to be their last stop in Westeros.

"Evenfall Hall's port and Storm's End. If I may, I recommend Evenfall Hall. Shipbreaker Bay got its name at the port of Storm's End. Many a ship has been lost there."

Arya looked out to the coast off in the distance. She could make out the island of Tarth where Ser Brienne had been born and raised and even trained. Beyond that, still just a dark line on the horizon, was Storm's End. Her stomach turned over as Gendry's face popped into her head. She could see his sea blue eyes in every wave they broke.

He'd been at the meeting of the council. Before they'd crowned Bran. There was a part of her that expected him to corner her. To try and talk to her. To say anything. Scream at her for using him. For toying with him the way she had. The way she _knew_ she had. If any man had done what she had done to him to her she'd kill him without hesitation. Instead, Gendry had sat mostly quietly. He had voted her brother king. He had looked at her without animosity. And he had looked… good. There was no way around it. He'd looked good. Good enough to take into another storeroom.

If she went to him at Storm's End, he might turn her away. If he didn't she would only break his heart more. She knew that. _Does it matter_? The most selfish part of her whispered. _You'll never return again. One last romp?_

Arya looked at Moryn, still waiting for her comman. "Evenfall Hall it is."

Moryn gave her a nod and hurried to command the sailors into their tasks. Arya shoved at her needing. Her longing. She would not be selfish. Gendry deserved better. He deserved the world. Maybe she could find a dragon and hatch it for him. Or maybe she'd find something even better. Something she could send back to him as an apology of sorts. Anything at all.

Arya remembered the sack once again. Being at sea the past few days had been a reprieve. All the water made it easier to forget the raining fire. The melting rock. The stench of smoke wafting up from burnt corpses. She would do well to be rid of Westeros forever. Or, as close to forever as she could get.

Tarth rose up around them. It was more yellow than Arya had thought it to be. The rock was more golden than grey. It was an odd shade unlike most sea stone. Evenfall Hall mounted even higher. That stone was more red than yellow and more grey than red. She frowned up at it. It looked almost as bad as the Red Keep. The walls were broken. Some parts no more than rubble. Arya waited until the ship grew closer.

Moryn came back to her side. Arya looked down at him with a frown. She already knew what he was going to say.

"Tarth's port has been destroyed, Captain." He said apologetically. "From the looks I'd have to say it was the Iron Fleet that did it."

Arya chewed her lip. It would seem the gods had still more plans for her. She looked to Storm's End again. It was closer now. Larger. All black rock and mean waves. The singular tower of the holdfast punched the sky like a mad drunkard. Slightly to the east, the port sat quietly among masts of ships so small yet they were little more than needles floating in the water.

"Storm's End then." She said.

Moryn looked like he wanted to argue. He stared at her face hesitantly for a good while before moving off to his work. The men turned the ship away from Tarth. Arya looked down at the broken ships as they went. She toyed with the pommel of Needle at her hip.

_I could stay on the ship. Let the men fetch what we need._ She thought. _There's really no reason I need to see him._

The ship docked at Storm's End's port. She could smell the fish from the market heavy in the air. There'd be plenty of fish to catch at sea. Bran had seen to a drag net being fixed to her ship for when food grew scarce. At the ports, Arya was only interested in fruits and animals. Sheep, pigs, chickens, all to be kept in a hold below deck.

Arya made her way down the gangplank and into the port town. People looked at her curiously. She was still a woman and women did not often captain ships. She had a cursory thought of Yara Greyjoy being subjected to such curious stares.

"We'll stay in port tonight and set out again on the tide tomorrow." Arya told Moryn.

"Only the one night, Captain? We might recruit more men if we wait another day or two." He suggested.

Arya looked at her first mate wordlessly. He withered under her stare. "Of course, Captain, I'll tell the men to be ready on the morrow." And he disappeared.

Arya borrowed a horse from the inn on the edge of the port. It was a skinny little brown thing that hopped every few steps as if mice were skittering under its feet. Arya grew tired of its skittish behavior within minutes and pushed it into a gallop. It didn't skitter then. It ran as smoothly as any mount and for that she was grateful.

When they slowed, the horse didn't hop again. It walked evenly up to the gates of the holdfast. Arya smiled serenely at the Baratheon banners hanging from the walls. Black stags on yellow fields. A guard approached her holding a spear. She leaned back in her saddle.

"What business have you here?" The gruff guard demanded.

Arya looked through the gates into the holdfast. Her stomach fluttered excitedly. "I'm here to see your lord."

"My lord is expecting no visitors." The guards replied.

"Tell him the wolf is here." Arya told the guard, her horse jittered beneath her, growing restless again now that they were standing still.

The guard shook his head. "He has no time for wolves or women."

Arya snatched her dagger from her hip and pressed the tip of it to the guard's throat kicking his spear out of his hand as she did. She turned to the other one and smiled. "Tell your lord the wolf is here. Tell him she's got her fang on one of his guards."

The other guard stared wide eyed between her and his friend. Hurriedly, the man ran off to do as she bid. His heavy armor clanking all the way. Curiously, she did not see him enter the castle. Instead, he veered off into the yard. Arya looked back down at the guard with Cat's Paw at his neck.

"You know if he goes for help you're dead."

The man snarled at her. She saw his hand grabbing for the sword on his hip. She pulled her foot out of her stirrup and set it on his sword hand.

"You don't want to do that." She told him.

"Arya?"

She looked up. He was filthy. Blacksmith filthy. And out of breath. Arya flipped her dagger back in her hand and stowed it away in its sheath. She hadn't even worked out what she should say.

"My Lord." She greeted.

Gendry looked at his guardsmen. He waved them away. "It's alright. She's a friend."

Arya dismounted, glad to be rid of the squirrely beast. Someone led it away to the stables as she stepped within the deep walls of the holdfast. Gendry walked with her to the yard. He didn't say anything which left it to her.

"I've stopped my ship at your port to restock." She explained.

Gendry frowned. "Restock? Didn't you come from King's Landing?"

Arya nodded. "I need enough stock to last up to a year I think. I don't expect to find anything until then otherwise our maps would be bigger."

Gendry was quiet. He was never this quiet with her. She chewed at her lip some more. He _must_ hate her. She looked up at the tower. From the base you couldn't see the top. It was just a long, black arm reaching into the stormy, grey clouds. She started for the door to what she assumed would be Round Hall.

"Oh, you don't want to go in there." Gendry told her.

She stopped and frowned back at him. "I'd like to see your castle, My Lord."

Gendry grimaced and looked at his feet. "Doesn't look anything like Winterfell's castle. It's…." Gendry shrugged.

Arya shook her head at him and pushed the door open. She squinted in the sudden darkness. There were no torches going in the foyer and there were no windows to let in light. She walked forward, feeling with her feet for any misplaced stones or sudden steps. She listened for walls just as she did in Braavos when the Many Faced God had taken her eyes.

A hand grabbed her elbow and Arya twisted and struck. She heard Gendry give a cry more of indignation than of pain. He grabbed her elbow again and pulled her into a hall that was brighter than the foyer, but still dark.

"You should have torches burning for light. And where are your servants? Are the guards at your gate your only guardsmen? Where are the rest? And your castellan? Where's he? The port is full of people, yet your castle is as good as deserted." She was speaking as she was turning around the monstrous hall. Large enough to put Winterfell's to shame, but still smaller than Harrenhal's. And empty.

She stopped talking as she faced Gendry again and saw his face. Even in the low light she could see how flushed he was with anger and embarrassment. She snapped her mouth shut and swallowed.

"Well, it has been pretty busy. You haven't had the chance to get everything sorted yet, I'd figure."

Gendry scoffed. "Don't do that."

Arya frowned at him. "Don't do what?"

"I don't need your platitudes. Never have. I told you I'd be a shit lord. I told you I didn't know what I was doing. I wasn't raised to oversee holdfasts or attend council meetings or do anything important. I was raised a bastard to die a bastard. So I don't need you to swoop in here and try to make everything okay. Dying a lord is already a high enough honor." Gendry said with no shortage of bitterness in each of his words.

"I wasn't trying to –"

"Doesn't matter what you were _trying_ to do. Alright? I get it." He said loudly enough that his words echoed off the high, empty walls. Thunder threatening a storm. _Ours is the fury_.

Gendry waved off her attempt at more words. He turned his back to her and crossed his arms over his chest to stare at the barren head table.

_I knew it. He does hate me_.

"What I don't get is what you're doing here." He said after a minute. "There are hundreds of ports around you could stop at. Why come to this one?"

Arya shut her eyes and gave her head a small shake. "Because it's yours."

Gendry turned back to face her. His eye was skeptical. Assessing. Like he couldn't decide what trick she was playing. He must have decided because he raised his brows and gave a small nod.

"Thinking you won't be coming back again, yeah?"

Arya stared at him mutely.

He sniffed and set his hands on his hips. She could see his collarbone above the neck of his dirty smith shirt. He saw her looking.

"That's what it is. One more End-of-the-World lay, then?" He blew air out of his nose like an angry bull. She almost smiled.

"Gendry –"

"Was it the title that did it?"

"What?"

"Did you only want me because I was there? Or did you only _stop_ wanting me because some dead queen made me a lord?" Gendry clarified.

Arya balked. She knew she'd broken his heart, but she thought she'd explained herself when she'd turned down his proposal. There was no good way to reject someone you love, but she had done her…. _Love_?

Gendry was staring at her with his sea blue eyes. She tried for the right words. Better words than she'd evidently given him their last night in Winterfell. She was coming up empty.

Gendry looked like he might cry. Or scream. He shut his eyes tight and put his back to her again. "So it's just me then."

"What's just you?"

Gendry covered his eyes with his hand. "You know damn well what. I thought girls were supposed to be more emotional when it came to fucking."

Arya startled at his coarse words. Of course she'd heard coarser, but never from Gendry. Not since he'd learned she was a girl. And almost never since he'd learned she was a highborn.

"You're one to talk." She muttered. "Did you propose to those three other girls, too?"

"Why would I?" He said almost on a whisper.

Arya shrugged, though he was still turned away from her and couldn't see. "We lay together once and you proposed to me. You might have lain with those other three more often. If they turned you down then, you might go back and have better luck. Tell them you're a lord with a –"

"THEY WEREN'T YOU!" He bellowed, spinning on his heel to face her. The hall crackled from his shout.

Arya met his eye evenly. She wanted to cry. She wanted to run. She wanted to hold him until he didn't hate her anymore. She worked at controlling her emotions. Something ordinarily easy, but near impossible whenever she was with Gendry.

For the first time, she dropped her eyes first. "I shouldn't have come."

"No. I suppose you shouldn't have." Gendry agreed. It made her whole chest hurt to hear him say that. And that made her angry.

"You could have said no at any time, you know. You could have told me to stop. You could have left. You didn't _have_ to." She told him.

Gendry snorted at her. All bull. "Hard for anyone to ever tell you no, isn't it Lady Stark?"

"Don't –"

"Don't what? Huh? Don't _what_? You're a lady like it or not. You always have been and you always will be because that's what you were _raised_ as. Just like me. I might live in a fancy castle, but I'm still at my forge day and night because I can do beggar all lord shit, but I can damn well work a forge because _that's_ what I was raised as, _My Lady_."

"If you weren't so bloody stubborn you might _learn_. You think I was _raised_ to kill the Night King? To be a swordsman? No! I _learned_. I learned however I could from whoever I could. You could do the same if you wanted to. You're just happier in your forge and that's why your castle looks like shit. _My Lord_."

Gendry let out an animalistic growl. "Has it ever _once_ occurred to you that maybe there was only one good thing I ever saw in a lordship? Barring that, I'd rather be a smith in some rundown shop the rest of my days anyway."

Arya frowned. She thought a lordship was right up Gendry's alley. _He_ was the one that always made a big deal about her title and status. She had never cared for them. She couldn't even sit through all the lessons about banners and house words and allegiances. The only banners she cared for were House Starks. The only words she cared for were the ones her father told her. But she knew Gendry's. Not just because his father was her father's best friend, but because his having a house was important to him. Having a sigil and house words were important to him.

"I thought you wanted to be a lord. Wanted to rule your own castle. You always made such a big deal out of it."

Gendry gave her a strange look. He walked away a ways and pulled a dusty chair out of the shadows. He sat down in it heavily and put his head in his hands. Arya hadn't really expected so much of a fight. She thought he'd either throw her out or take her to bed. This hadn't been on her agenda.

"What was the one good thing?" Arya asked, hesitantly.

Gendry shook his head and didn't look at her. "If you don't already know there's no point in me telling you."

She could tell all the fight had gone out of him. For some reason, that scared her more than his shouting. At least if he was angry with her it proved he still cared. And Arya hated that she was still wanting him to care about her. Hadn't she done him enough damage?

She sniffed. "My ship leaves port tomorrow with the tide. You can forget all about me as soon as you'd like. I'll never darken your door again."

Arya sniffed again and fought against the heat in her eyes. The tears threatening to fall because Gendry really might forget her. And that thought _hurt_. It hurt like nothing she had ever felt before. A burn that started at her center and spread until it was suffocating. She turned for the blackened corridor to leave.

"Forget you?" Gendry said to the floor. "Could I ever?" She knew he was looking at her. She was turned away, but she knew. "Can you forget me? Am I so little to you?" Gendry only paused a second before answering himself for her. "Of course you could. And you will. You're so much more than I could ever be. Two of your siblings wear crowns. It wasn't the title. It wasn't the lordship. It really was just me." He stood up, the legs of the chair scraping against the stone. "I'm not enough for you. I never will be."

"Gendry –" Her next words were caught on a sob. She covered her face with her hands and took a deep, shaking breath. "I can't give you what you want." She said as she calmed herself. "You want a lady in your castle. A mother for your children. You want someone I'm not. I don't want to stay inside four walls my whole life. That's why I'm sailing west. No castles, no walls to hold me. Just the open sea and whatever lays on the other side of it."

Arya scrubbed the criminal tears from her cheeks and took another deep breath. She was horrified to have cried at all. She was glad none of her shipmates were there. It had taken her a week before leaving and three days at sea to gain a modicum of respect from them. If they ever saw her cry she's lose it all.

"Free, but not safe. There's dangers at sea. Dangers everywhere. Holdfasts have walls because it's safer."

"King's Landing had walls. How safe were all those people there?" Arya challenged. "Dangers are everywhere. I might as well have a bit of fun while waiting for the lightning to strike."

Gendry stood behind her now. Close enough that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. It sent chills down her back and made her flesh hum with need. Need for something she could not have again.

"I never wanted much my whole life," he started. "Food in my belly, maybe. A warmer blanket. Sometimes I would think about a smithy of my own. But if I ever really _wanted_ something. Wanted something that wasn't necessarily about survival, well that comes down to one thing. The same thing that made me care about titles and lordships and castles. And it's not even a thing."

Arya turned around slowly. Her face met with his chest. She could smell the smoke and sweat on him. Smoke that should have brought her back to King's Landing. Should have made her think of the mother and her daughter, but instead she could only think of the storeroom behind the Winterfell forges. She tipped her head up to meet his eyes.

"Have you ever wanted something like that? Something not for survival or revenge, but something you wanted because your whole being said you needed it." He asked and his voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Yes." She said, her voice just as quiet. She had wanted something just like that the night of the Battle for the Dawn. She had wanted it so badly she dropped everything for it.

Gendry nodded. "Will you tell me?"

Arya stared up at him. In the dark, his eyes looked black. Endlessly deep. She could fall into them forever. She reached up for his face, but he caught her wrist and stopped her. She stared at him. She could feel the heat of his hand through her leathers.

"Tell me." He said again.

Arya swallowed. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears. She wanted to tell him, but she didn't want to break his heart again. She didn't want him to hate her anymore. She wanted to hear him say he loved her again. Even just one more time. She had never been happier than when he'd said it that last horrible night. And never sadder when she couldn't say it back to him.

"_Go home, girl. You come with me, you die here."_

Arya's eyes heated again. Gendry kept hold on her wrist with one hand and brought the other up to cup her cheek. His calloused fingertips grazed her skin so softly. She felt her heart stuttering. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to feel him again. Everywhere. She _wanted_….

"You." She breathed.

Gendry smiled. She tugged her wrist from his hand and grabbed his face between them and pulled him down. She crushed her lips against his. Gendry let her kiss him a few seconds. Not long enough to satisfy her, but longer than she thought to get. He pushed her back and stepped away.

She stood alone. Her whole body was shivering. Not from cold or fear, but from a want so deep she could feel it in her bones. There weren't any sacks of grain around, but the table didn't look _too_ uncomfortable. _Gods_, how was she going to last the rest of her life never being touched by him again? To only have that one night to remember it all.

Gendry grabbed her hand and pulled her further into the castle. She let him lead her. There was nothing much to the castle anyway. Not many places to get lost at least. And no servants or furniture to trip over. He led her up an enormous case of winding stairs. They wrapped the whole tower. Arya thought there must have been a million of them. Huge and winding ever upward.

On the seaward side, the tower was pitch black. Gendry held her hand tighter on that side. The side facing the Curtain Wall at least had windows. Even as small as they were, they let in enough light to see by. And still they traveled upward. Ever in silence because what was left there to say?

At long last, they came to a great wooden door with iron bars. Gendry pushed the door open and led her into the lord's chambers. An impressive apartment with a wide window on one side singlehandedly responsible for all the light in the room at large. Arya could see bits of half-forged armor strewn across the floor. Even a sword or two he'd obviously been too sleepy to remember to leave in the forge before heading to bed.

The bed was monstrous. A truly ridiculous size even for a lord's bed. Arya bet herself twenty people could fit on the mattress. She frowned at her memories of the Baratheons. She supposed if any lords would have ridiculously large beds, it'd be the stags.

Then came the mad thought in Arya's head. _How many women has he had in this bed_?

Gendry stepped behind her. His warm hands slid around her waist to her belt. He slipped it off and settled it on a table beside a half made breast plate. His lips grazed her neck and Arya rolled her head to the side to give him better access. His fingers started at the ties on her tunic. She set her hands on her pants, but Gendry's hands were over hers in an instant.

"Don't." He growled, his voice thick and harsh in her ear. "Not this time."

He pulled her tunic down her shoulders and went back for her undershirt. Arya tried to turn around to face him. She wanted to kiss him. Taste him like he was tasting her. Gendry's strong hands kept stopping her. He was keeping her turned away from him even as he slowly and deliberately rid her of each article of clothing.

When she was standing completely naked, Gendry disappeared from her. She spun around to catch him, but he was already across the room. His shirt was off, the little patch of black curls on his chest made her belly twist. She started for him, but he looked up at her and she froze. Her breathing became harsher. She didn't just _want_ him. She _needed_ him.

Gendry ran a wet washcloth over his face, neck and chest. A droplet of water ran drop his chest all the way to his breaches before disappearing.

"I like you dirty." Arya told him.

Gendry gave her a wry smile. He dropped the cloth half in the water bowl and half on the table. He set his hands on his ties as he moved. Easy, practiced motions undoing the knots he tied there.

"Is that so?"

Arya grabbed for him again. He caught her arms easily as he dropped his pants around his ankles. He brought her arms down to her sides and Arya was forced to acknowledge just how strong he really was. Gendry stepped out of his pants and leaned his face closer to her. If she could just elongate her neck another half inch she'd be kissing him.

"Youi really should have seen me after the battle with the white walkers. I was downright filthy." He teased, but Arya could hear a bite of hurt beneath the tone.

"Gods, Gendry, _please_!" She begged. She was naked in his bedroom and he wouldn't _touch her._

Gendry pressed his forehead against hers, purposefully keeping his lips just out of her reach. "Please what?" He asked all innocence.

"Kiss me. Touch me. _Fuck_ me. Please."

Gendry frowned then. He moved her arms so the he could hold both her wrists in one hand. All joking gone from his face. Arya's body screamed. He shook his head. "You aren't a whore." He told her. He reached up with his free hand and smoothed a few stray hairs from her face. His fingertips caught her bottom hip and she wanted to scream.

"I don't care."

Gendry pet his fingers over her lips, cheeks, jaw. They traveled down her neck to her chest. He used his whole hand then. The rough callouses setting her skin ablaze. He squeezed her breast and flicked her nipple with his thumb. Arya shut her eyes.

"Let me go." Arya told him, pulling at her wrists in his hand. Just then, Gendry's free hand found her sex. She let out a gasp and pressed her forehead more firmly against Gendry's. She twisted her wrists in his hold, spreading her legs a bit more for him. "Gendry, let go of my hands."

Gendry kissed her lightly. Barely more than a peck. She chased those lips.

"Will you run away?" He murmured.

"I want to touch you."

Gendry brought her hands to his face. He kissed each of her fingers before freeing her wrists and gripping her by her butt to haul her up onto his hips. Arya grabbed his face between her hands again and held him still as she tasted his lips until she felt the coil in her belly start to loosen.

She fell backward until she hit something soft. Arya blinked up at him. His mouth moved to her breasts. Where his fingers once tantalized her, his tongue and teeth left her breathless. She dug her fingers into his scalp and set her legs on either side of him. It wasn't enough.

"Gendry, now." She ordered.

Gendry pulled his head back and grinned at her. "Spoiled little rich girl. No patience at all."

Arya grabbed his ears and pulled his head up so that he was looking her straight in the eyes. "I swear to the old gods and the new if you don't –"

Gendry kissed her stealing away her empty threats. His fingers dipped inside of her and she moaned into his mouth. Gendry took her hand in his and curved it around his thick cock. She gave it a stroke and smiled against his mouth when she felt the wet tip against her palm. She lined his cock up with her opening. If only he would move his damn fingers. They felt incredible, but his cock would feel so much better.

Arya whimpered into his mouth. She tried again and again to push him over, but Gendry was determined to stay on top of her. Arya knew it for what it was. A show of power. A sort of 'two can play that game' move. Arya couldn't fault him for it. His strength was one of the biggest attractions for her. The sheer size of his arms…. She ran her free hand over his bicep and deltoid almost lovingly.

Gendry pulled his fingers from her and took her hand on his cock away. She twisted her mouth away to protest when he surged into her in one deft stroke. Arya let out a delirious cry of fulfillment and relief. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, keeping him still inside her for just a moment.

She didn't last long as soon as he started moving. He had her trembling beneath him after the third or fourth stroke. His lips still grazed her skin. Every second or third stroke his mouth would find hers again and she would kiss him back eagerly. Gendry pulled himself from her completely after one last stroke and spilled his seed over the scars on her belly.

Arya drooped back into the pillows. Her eyes fluttering shut for just a second. The bed dipped and Arya opened them again to see where he'd gone. He picked up the washcloth and wiped away the cum from his cock. He tossed the washcloth to her while he poured wine into to cups.

Arya cleaned her belly and sat up as he came back over with the wine. He handed her one and sat beside her on the edge of the bed facing the window. Arya took a sip and grimaced.

"Ugh," she set the cup on the bedside table, "Where'd you get that wine?"

Gendry took a sip from his own cup and frowned. "From the basements. Loads of alcohol here. Not all of it's good. And I think that cup might've had some leftover ale in it before I filled it." Arya wrinkled her nose. "Mine had mead in it. Kind of gives it a crunchy taste."

Arya shook her head. "That's disgusting."

Gendry shrugged. "Maybe Sansa should run Storm's End. Then you'd always have a clean cup to drink from. And better wine."

Arya shook her head. "Sansa's Queen in the North now. And I'm sailing west anyway."

Gendry nodded. "I remember."

Arya suddenly felt guilty as she remembered his words from the hall. "You aren't just an end-of-the-world lay." She said then scowled at the idiocy of what she'd just said.

"That's good to hear." He had gone back to being distant.

Arya sat up and reached out to him. Midway, she thought about retreating, but she might never get the chance to touch him again. She felt the hard muscle of his arm under her hand. He looked over at her a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"The Hound was right, you are a she-wolf." He joked. "Hungry again?"

Arya smiled wistfully and leaned her head against his shoulder. She grazed her fingers up and down his arm until he was covered in goosebumps and every hair on his body was standing on end. She turned her head and set her teeth against the meatiest part of his shoulder. She gradually bit down harder and harder until Gendry finally gave a gasp and flinched away. His hand came up to hold the back of her head.

"Ow." He accused. "Is this the thanks I get?"

Arya took his cup out of his hands and set it on the floor before swinging her leg over his lap to straddle him. His hands went to her waist at once. Now he looked up at her. She smiled proudly.

"Do you _want_ thanks?" She asked, kissing his neck.

His cock jumped between them. His hands gripped her butt as she ground herself against him. He groaned so low it sounded almost like a wolf's growl. Wolf, stag, bull, did it _really_ matter? Arya let out a moan of her own as she pushed herself down him. _Nothing really matters when he's inside me_.

"Gods, Arya." He gasped. He made to lift her. Move her.

Arya twisted her hips. "Spoiled little lord. So impatient." She nipped at his bottom lip before sucking it between her teeth. Only once she released it did she start to move.

Arya had him twice more before the sun came up the next day. She was already going to hell. She may as well earn her stay.

Gendry slept quietly beside her when she woke. Arya rolled from the bed and set about dressing as quietly as she could. There was no reason for another harsh goodbye. Not when the first did so much damage. She fixed her belt over her waist and checked that Needle and Cat's Paw were where they were meant to be.

Her brown squirrely horse was brought out of the stables. If anything, the horse was more nervous in the early morning than it had been the previous afternoon. Arya tried to soothe the animal as best she could before she mounted. It didn't do much.

Arya steered her mount through the gates on the Curtain Wall and started for port. Her loins still sang with the pleasure of the night before. Her hair was down from its tightly braided bun. She hoped none of her men would question it. At least not where she could hear. She would hate to start taking away body parts. She had decided early on that she would start with toes. Once she started taking fingers, their usefulness would dry up.

Moryn greeted her on the deck of the ship. He gave her a once over, but said nothing about her appearance. Overhead, thunder rumbled. She could hear Moryn shouting, but his words were taken away by the wind. The sea had grown loud. She leaned towards him to try and catch what he was saying.

"What?" She yelled.

Moryn leaned into her ear. "Can't set sail today. Ship'll go down before we make it out of the bay." He screamed.

Arya looked out at the water. It was nearly black and swirling so violently she completely understood why it was called Shipbreaker Bay. Arya looked back to the fist of Storm's End. Gendry was surely awake by then. He'd likely already noticed her absence.

The storm gave them no choice. They started down the gangplank for the inn. The skies opened around them as their feet hit the shore. Moryn pulled his cloak up over his head and began to walk faster. Arya let him go. The rain was harsh and unforgiving, but the things she had done were unforgivable.

The inn was warm and dry and full. The innkeeper announced that he had no more rooms available. She _could_ try and make her way back to Storm's End. Gendry would probably let her back in his bed another night or two. Just the thought made her body ache for him. She turned to Moryn.

"Have _you_ got a room?"

"I..."

"Don't lie to me."

Moryn dropped his head. "Yes. Same one from last night. We knew this storm was coming. I would've gotten you one, too, Cap, but you rode off somewhere so I figured you didn't need one."

Moryn started to dig in his pocket for his room key. His face looked miserable. Thunder shook the inn just then. Arya thought the entire port town was doomed to fall into the bay. _The port town may do, but Storm's End is made of stronger stuff_.

"Keep your room." She told her first mate. "I'll make do."

Arya took up residence in front of the fire. Most of her crew had piled into the inn and they moved out of her way when they saw her coming. A good portion of the men were northerners. People who had seen and fought the army of dead men. People who knew what she was capable of.

Arya stared at the fire and listened to the storm rage on outside. Every time the walls shook, Arya had to fight her way back out of King's Landing. The fire was warming her, but it wasn't making it any easier. After one especially loud boom of thunder, Arya could swear she heard Drogon scream. A chill ran down her back.

It turned out, what she thought was a dragon scream was just the door to the inn being opened. She heard the innkeeper speaking to someone excitedly. Arya decided to focus on that instead of the fire and the storm.

"-biggest room, I assure you. Always keep one open for the lords. Always the nicest one."

"I don't need anything fancy."

Arya's jaw tightened. _What is he doing here?_ She sank lower into her chair praying he hadn't already seen her. She chewed at her lip and listened for his footsteps.

"Make way! One of you cretins best give up your chair!" The innkeeper barked. "This is the Lord of Storm's End here."

One of her northern crewmen who had claimed the seat closest the fire leapt to his feet. He smiled at Gendry and reached out to shake his hand. Gendry smiled back at him. He didn't sit down straight away. A few more of the northerners moved to greet him and Arya remembered that Gendry had _armed_ these men.

"Looky, here, Lord Baratheon!" One of her crew, a northern fisherman from the Saltspear named Patrek, cried. Gendry looked. Patrek held up a dragon glass axe proudly. It looked just like the one he'd shown her the morning before the battle. The one he'd slammed into the stump with all the strength of a bull.

"Expecting many white walkers on the high seas?" Gendry asked him. "You know they can't swim, yeah?"

Patrek laughed and tucked the axe back into his belt. "Your work's so fine it does just as much damage against the living as it does the dead."

"We all kept 'em." One of the other northerners boasted. "Happens you made all of ours."

"Black Swords." Moryn snarled beside her. He wasn't a northerner. He was a Dornishman from Salt Shore. An expert sailor who had never seen nor truly believed in the Others. Fantasy nightmares to warm the cold, northern children was what he and most southerners believed. They called the crewmen who wielded dragon glass weapons Black Swords even though most of them wielded axes and maces.

"Captain Stark has her dagger still. The one she used to knife the bastard king right in the heart." Patrek told Gendry.

Gendry's eyes found her then. A strange twinkle in his eye that she handed over to a trick of the fire. He settled into the chair offered to hi and tilted his head at her. She looked around at her crew.

"I seem to recall fashioning you a weapon, too." Gendry told her.

Moryn looked from Gendry to Arya. He knew what she had done, of course. The Black Swords wouldn't let anyone forget it or go unawares. But Arya never wore any blades save Cat's Paw and Needle.

"Must have left it in the North with the dead men." She told him coolly.

Gendry's lips twitched. He leaned back in his chair and looked over at the fire. "More's the pity. I worked hard on that."

In truth, the spear sat below deck in her cabin on _Nymeria_. She had found it in the aftermath and hidden it away in a chest in her room. Sansa had brought the chest south with her and Bran. Not that Arya would tell Gendry any of that.

"Why are you here?" Arya asked. Her men looked at her curiously. She cleared her throat. "I mean, why are you at an inn instead of your castle, My Lord?"

Gendry was fighting his grin. "Food's better here." He told her. Arya understood then. What the innkeeper had said when he arrived about always keeping a spare room for him. Gendry didn't have kitchen servants. He had no food at his castle. He came to the inn to eat. That's why the innkeeper was unsurprised to see him in a storm. "And my bed became remarkably uncomfortable almost overnight." Gendry continued.

Arya stared at him emotionlessly. He frowned into the fire.

"Not feathery enough, M'lord?" Patrek asked. "Weren't you sleeping on barrels in the forge less four months ago?"

Gendry gave him a shrug. "Might be it's the draft of an empty castle."

"Countrymen are slow to return after a war." A man from Seaguard said.

Conversation carried through the inn. The cook brought food out for Gendry along with a cup of wine. The sailors slowly trickled out of the main hall to their rooms or back to one of the two brothels standing in the port. Moryn was the only one to stay.

Gendry looked between the Dornishman and Arya as he sipped his wine. Arya wished she was less aware of him. Of everything he did down to the tiniest movement. Moryn was talking to her about sailing after the storm and she could hardly focus.

"Sunspear has an abundance of fruits. There is a woman called. Jynessa Sand who puts fruit trees in crates with dirt so they grow fresh fruit on long voyages. We should buy a tree or two from her before we leave. Stopping at Sarfall would add another week before Oldtown. Maybe more. We could go straight through. Stores should be just about full by the time we leave Sunspear anyhow." Moryn was saying.

"I'm not in a hurry. We have time. I want to stop in Greenstone before Sunspear anyway and that'll be another two days already."

"Greenstone? What's in Greenstone that we couldn't get in Sunspear?"

Arya shrugged. "I'm sure there's something."

"And now you're set on Evenfall?"

"I already told you I planned to stop at all the major ports along the coasts before we set out. I keep you around for your ship savvy, not so you can question my decisions."

Moryn was quiet for a bit. "What do you suppose about Jynessa Sand and her portable fruit trees?"

"Where would we keep trees on a ship?"

Moryn shrugged. "The deck I'd expect. They still need sun."

"Did you manage to buy any animals?"

Gendry shifted in his seat and sipped his wine. Very obviously listening to their conversation.

"I bought a sow fat with babies. Should do us a while, I'd expect. And…." Moryn glanced at Gendry. "Bought three sheep."

Arya narrowed her eyes at her first mate. "I do not want any stolen animals on my ship. Give them back to the farmer."

Moryn grimaced. "Wasn't any farmer there. Just sheep left out in a field."

Arya stared at the man until he relented.

"Fine. I expect there's sheep to buy in Oldtown." He pouted.

Arya glanced at Gendry then back to Moryn. "It's getting late. Perhaps you should get some sleep." She suggested.

Moryn nodded and got to his feet. He looked between Arya and Gendry. He turned back to Arya and scratched at his scruffy beard innocently. "Since you don't have a room of your own, Captain, I was thinking you might take mine. Or we could even share it." Moryn suggested.

Arya stared up at him blankly. Moryn was building up the confidence to ask her again. She could see it. She really hoped he didn't make her kill him. He really knew his way around a ship.

"The seas can get lonely, you know. That's why the sailors run to the brothels every time we touch the shore. With a journey of this magnitude, we may not see a brothel for months if not longer. Even women have needs." Moryn told her.

Arya narrowed her eyes and gave him a slight smile. "My needs have been met. If the men get needy enough, be sure to tell them they can slake themselves with each other."

Moryn opened his mouth again, but Gendry had started laughing. Moryn snapped his mouth shut and glared at the Lord of Storm's End. It only made the idiot bull laugh harder. Arya got to her feet. Moryn wasn't much taller than she was. She'd found most Dornishmen to be similarly built.

"Goodnight, Moryn." She told him dismissively. Moryn gave her one more lustful gaze before stomping off to his room.

Arya walked over to Gendry and flicked his ear. Gendry smiled up at her and grabbed her wrist.

"It wasn't that funny." She told him.

Gendry set his other hand on her thigh. She felt a creeping warmth spreading through her. Something she thought she'd cured herself of four times over the night before.

"Tell me, do you break hearts in every port you visit? Or is Storm's End special?" He teased.

Arya pushed his hand away from her thigh. "If I broke your heart so badly then why are you here?"

Gendry still held her wrist. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "I didn't say it was my heart you broke."

Arya ran her fingers over his hair. It was growing longer. Softer. He'd even started to regrow his goatee. Gendry blinked slowly up at her. If the innkeeper weren't still in the room, she would have kissed him.

"You know, if you had stayed I could have told you about the storm. You wouldn't have to worry about not having a room here."

"You don't have food in your castle." Arya reminded him.

Gendry arched a brow at her seductively. "There are other things to eat."

"You're worse than Moryn." Arya complained.

Gendry narrowed his eyes up at her. "Have you _had_ Moryn?" He demanded.

Arya slid into his lap. She pushed him back into the chair and set her hands on either side of his face. She moved close enough that her lips grazed his when she spoke. "And if I had?"

Gendry's fingers dug into the backs of her thighs. "Then I'd say there's no way I'm worse than him and I think I proved it four times over last night."

Arya smiled and kissed his jaw before leaning into his ear. "Maybe I need a reminder."

She felt Gendry's need through his pants. He pushed her back and stood out of his chair. He looked out the windows at the raging storm and pulled her up the stairs toward his room. Arya was already pulling at the ties of her tunic before they'd even reached the door.

The storm lasted three days. Three blissful days she spent holed up with Gendry until she wasn't certain she had any legs let alone sea legs. She had thought to grow tired of it after a time, but every time they finished all she wanted was more.

Gendry never told her he loved her again. He didn't once beg her to stay in Storm's End. Never did he suggest she might do as a lady rather than a ship's captain. The only thing he ever asked was for her to come back to bed again.

When the storm lifted and Moryn confirmed that _Nymeria_ was set to go, she expected Gendry to make any attempt to stop her leaving. Instead, he had disappeared without a word. Arya swallowed back the pit that had formed in her throat. The cloying need to see him again. To feel his skin on her skin. Every step she took up the gangplank felt like adding brush to her pyre.

She looked for him as the ship pulled out into the bay. She thought she might see him riding back to his castle now he'd had his fill of her. But the coastline was as empty as his castle. Arya turned her attention back to the sea. There were more important things on the horizon.

None of the ports held as much interest for her after Storm's End. They filled _Nymeria_ with food and animals. She bought five trees from Jynessa Sand in Sunspear. Two were apple trees, two were orange trees, and one was a peach tree she had only bought because it was already bearing fruit and it was cheaper than buying the plucked peaches in the market.

The few hours Arya would spend in her cabin went to thoughts of Gendry. The occasional nightmare would still creep in. Sometimes it was King's Landing and sometimes it was Winterfell, but it was always Gendry. The woman and child were replaced with Gendry and a baby and try as she might he always slipped from her fingers. Sometimes she would hear him whisper as he fell beneath the blaze, "You let go." Arya would wake in a cold sweat.

On the nights that it was Winterfell, Gendry would take Bran's place at the Weirwood. She would run for him, hacking her way through a wall of dead men who all bore familiar faces. Several times, she'd had to face her father. Only this Ned Stark had bright blue eyes and his skin was falling off in chunks. When she stabbed him with her dragon glass spear, it felt as if she were stabbing her own heart. And still, she could not save Gendry.

By the time they reached Oldtown, Arya could hardly bear to see Westeros. She could feel the gods watching her. The faster she sailed west the better. Out of the reach of gods and men. Brandon the Shipwright had sailed the Sunset Sea. She'd heard the story as a child when Theon Greyjoy had boasted the size of the Iron Fleet and Robb had told him about the Northern Fleet. Arya thought the ships still stood until her father had patiently explained how grief for his father had led his son, Brandon, to burn the shipyards. Nobody would burn ships for Arya.

Arya went to the Citadel their final day in Oldtown. Their final day in Westeros, truly. She supposed that was why they had spent four days lollygagging on the shore with her crew. They were saying goodbye.

Arya had heard about the library at the Citadel all her life. The place where all the maesters trained. The largest library in the world. At least, that they knew of. Arya wanted to see it. The walls were white marble. The steps were worn in all the places commonly tread upon. Arya pushed the massive door open. It reminded her of the House of Black and White.

A maester sat behind a large desk reading from a tome. Arya approached the desk and waited. The man did not look up.

"Excuse me."

"Women are not permitted." The maester told her without looking up.

Arya narrowed her eyes at the man's bent head. She fingered Cat's Paw. "I think you'll find it hard to keep me out."

The maester gave a great sigh like the worst thing in the world was to have to pay attention to her. He tilted his head back and peered down his nose at her. Arya smiled.

"I do not care what lord is your father or where you come from. The rules have stood thousands of years. They will not bend for you."

"Are you sure?" She tilted her head to the side. "I'm Arya Stark."

She caught the flicker of recognition in his eyes. She smiled wider.

"That's right. _That_ Arya Stark. I've only come to peruse the library for an hour or two and I'll be out of your hair. Unless you turn me away."

"Sister to the King or not, women are not permitted." The maester insisted stubbornly.

Arya withdrew Cat's Paw slowly. Ensuring that he saw. "That's fine, then. I can be a boy if I need to be." She flicked her eyes up to him. "I could be you. Would you like to give me your face?"

The maester was babbling incoherently when another measter came through a door behind him and hurried forward. Arya spun her dagger in her hand lazily as she waited. The new maester showed the desk maester a scroll before addressing her.

"I apologize for the terrible rudeness of Maester Rol. I have just received word from King Bran that you are to be given every hospitality of the Citadel for the duration of your visit." The new measter professed.

Arya arched her brow. "I only want to see the library."

The new maester nodded emphatically and led her inside. Arya slipped the scroll from the maester's robes as she followed him. The library was everything she could have imagined it to be. The room was bright and filled with tome and tome of histories and stories. She moved through the bookshelves idly. She could hear the maesters whispering around her.

Discreetly, she unrolled the pilfered scroll and read it curiously.

_Archmaester Theobald,_

_My sister, Arya, is coming to see the Citadel's library before she sets sail on the Sunset Sea. Your ancient rules dictate no women may enter the Citadel. I urge you to forget this. Should you provoke her, the Six Kingdoms will be woefully without maesters._

_She wears a sword and dagger on her hip. If the dagger is in her hand, you have only a moment to prevent bloodshed._

_Brandon Stark_

_King of the Six Kingdoms and the Andals Sixteenth of his name_

Arya frowned. She had only been playing. She flipped the paper over and noticed more writing on the back.

_Don't go below deck until the moon is at its height in the sky._

Arya twisted her mouth at her brother's meddling. She was of a mind to go straight to her cabin the moment she left the Citadel. She rolled the scroll back up and slid it into Archmaester Theobald's robes while he was arguing with a cluster of maesters. Whatever he'd said had managed to get her into the library.

"A Song of Ice and Fire." She read aloud.

"That one is the history of the recent wars, My Lady." Archmaester Theobald explained. "Archmaester Ebrose finished it himself."

Arya frowned and flipped through it on the table. "What do a bunch of stuffy old men know about wars?" She muttered. She came to the page about her father's execution. "This is wrong."

"Pardon?"

"It says the Mountain took my father's head. It wasn't. It was Ser Ilyn Payne with Ice. And this says that I fled back to Winterfell before the execution. I didn't. I was there when they took my father's head. Yoren took me away from the capital." She looked up at the cluster of maesters and archmaesters coldly. "This isn't the history of anything. It's lies and make believe. You're teaching lies."

"My lady, all the reports have been thoroughly compiled." Archmaester Theobald tried.

Arya picked the book up off the table and flung it over the bannister to drop three stories down. "My brother can write a better history. Maybe your historians should talk to him before they spread more lies."

Arya broke through the maesters and left the Citadel without a backwards glance. Greatest library in the world her ass. Not when all their books were filled with lies made up by crusty old men who'd never seen a day of true battle in their miserable lives.

Moryn had gone off to buy sheep and a boar for their sow. Arya climbed back up to _Nymeria_'s deck and plucked a peach off her tree. The winds were fair and they weren't expecting another storm to come in the night. The only place left to go was the Sunset Sea and beyond. She considered going to her cabin, but Bran had told her not to.

She pulled Needle from its sheath and began to practice her water dancing on the mostly empty deck. She would find an occasional combatant amongst her crew, but men did not often like to be bested by women. They took to watching her instead.

Moryn came back at noon dragging two more pigs while two of the crewmen ushered a small herd of sheep up the gangplank. Arya stowed Needle and gave the word to set sail once everyone was settled. The crew had grown larger at each of their stops. Not all of the new men respected her yet, but they would. Or they wouldn't. Either way, Arya didn't see them being a problem very long.

By dusk, Westeros had disappeared beneath the horizon. By midnight, they were alone in the vast, empty sea. Arya stared up at the moon, wondering what it was Bran had expected her to see on deck. Her crewmen had already changed over to sleep. Loathe as she was to admit it, she was tired too.

Arya rubbed her eyes as she tramped down the narrow stairs that led to the captain's suite. She unlocked her door and slipped inside. Arya pulled the bolt into place and started on the ties to her tunic when she froze. Her hand found her dagger and she spun for her bed.

Her brow wrinkled at what she was seeing. It didn't make sense. Her mind went to her being poisoned. Hallucinating. Anything to explain why Lord Gendry Baratheon of Storm's End was asleep in her bed. In her cabin. In her ship.

Arya kicked his foot and he snuffled noisily before sitting up and squinting at her. She frowned at him.

"What in all seven hells are you doing here?" She demanded.

Gendry looked around as if confused about where it was he wasn't meant to be. He scrubbed his hands over his face and yawned.

"I thought about what you said."

Arya wrinkled her brow at him. "What I said when?"

Gendry got to his feet and grabbed for the wall for balance. "Whoa. Uh, about learning. Remember? You said if I wanted to I could learn whatever just like you learned…." He blew a breath out through his lips and waved at her whole body. "But I don't want to learn to be a lord if it means living without you. Do you remember what I said? Back in Winterfell?"

"You always knew I was just another spoiled rich girl." Arya repeated knowing full well that wasn't what he was talking about.

Gendry smirked at her. "None of it means anything if you're not with me. And if you won't be with me. I can be with you."

Arya was finding air hard to come by. "What about Storm's End? You would leave it without a lord?"

Gendry frowned and shrugged indifferently. "Davos is sure to visit at some point and notice I'm gone. He might even take better care of it than I did. Or he'd find someone much better suited to the task. I would've left a note, but I can barely read the few words I know let alone write a lengthy explanation for abandoning my post."

"But you finally had everything you wanted. A family name. A castle. A title. A house sigil."

Gendry laughed. "Well, I s'pose I've always been more of a bull than a stag anyway, haven't I?"

"You know we might die out here." Arya insisted.

Gendry smiled at her. "At least it'll mean something if I'm with you."

"I'm not the same girl you knew, Gendry. You have to know that by now."

Gendry moved closer to her. "Yes you are. You might have a few new scars. You might be a lot deadlier, but you were always dangerous. You were always wild. You were always Arya."

Arya shook her head at him. "You can say that. You don't know what I've done."

Gendry frowned. "I know some of what you've done."

Arya looked at the floor between them. "I don't mean that. People wouldn't cheer for the other things I've done."

"Was it your list?"

Arya looked out her port window at the sea. "I ended House Frey."

Gendry nodded. "Well, see? You were wrong. Because I did cheer when I heard about that."

Arya wrinkled her face at him. "What?"

Gendry swallowed hard. "Well, I didn't know it was you who did it. And I still thought they had killed you alongside your mother and brother. Of course I was glad they were dead."

Arya gave her head a little shake. "I fed Lothar and Black Walder to Walder Frey before I killed him. I baked them into a pie like the Rat Cook."

Gendry grimaced. "Disgusting. He actually ate them?"

"Some of them." Arya was being intentionally blunt. Readying herself for when he jumped ship and swam back to Westeros. "He might've eaten more if I hadn't slit his throat. Not too deep. I wanted him to die slowly."

Gendry nodded along mildly. "Well, I heard some of what he and his house did. They killed the young wolf's pregnant wife first. Arguably a more disgusting act then feeding a man's children to him. Admittedly not much more…. I also heard they cut Catelyn Stark's throat so deep she was practically headless. And Robb Stark _was_ headle –" Gendry coughed and stopped talking realizing what he was saying and who he was talking to.

"I was there." Arya admitted. It was the first time she'd told anyone. She hadn't even told Sansa despite her sister uncovering her faces. Walder Frey's amongst them.

Gendry's brow furrowed as he looked at her. "There? At the Red Wedding? In Riverrun?"

Arya nodded. "The doors were barred when we got there. That's when we knew something was wrong. At least I knew. And maybe the Hound knew then, too, but I slipped away from him. I thought I could do something if I could just reach them in time. But I couldn't."

"Is that when you robbed him and left him to die?" Gendry asked, curiously.

Arya shook her head. "From there we went to the Eerie, but Petyr Baelish had already killed my Aunt Lysa. I didn't leave the Hound until Ser Brienne found us. She's the one that nearly killed him. That's when I left the Hound to die." She swallowed as she remembered his final parting words again. "The first time anyway."

The ship tilted against a particularly high wave and Gendry slammed into the wall trying to brace himself. Arya arched her left brow at him. "Have you ever _been_ on a ship before?"

Gendry straightened himself up and scratched at his stubbled jaw. "I happen to have rowed myself all the way from Dragonstone to King's Landing and I only halfway fell out of the boat once." He boasted.

Arya gnashed her teeth on the inside of her lower lip trying to fight the laugh she felt bubbling. She gave up at his firm and prideful stance. She laughed hard. Harder than she had in years. It felt amazing to do it again. Exhilarating.

"Hey! Don't laugh! I'm a quick learner when it comes to the hands on stuff. It's all the reading and writing and thinking I'm not the best at. It's why I shouldn't be a lord." Gendry pouted.

Arya gave him an appeasing smile. "A row boat and a ship are not the same thing."

Gendry shrugged. "I'm guessing it's the same amount of difference as forging a suit of armor and forging a sword and I can do both of those."

Arya let out a heavy sigh. "You don't want to stay with me, Gendry. Really."

"I do want to stay with you, Arya. Really. Unless you're saying you really don't want me. Unless you're saying what you told me at Storm's End was a lie." He looked unsure now.

Arya could lie to him, but she never had before. She didn't want to start now. "It wasn't a lie, but I've done terrible things."

"So you keep saying, but I don't care. Even if you pillaged an entire city I'd stand behind you. Maybe that's stupid. Daenerys Targaryen did that and Jon killed her for it, but I don't think he loved her the same. Or he loved someone or something more. I dunno. I couldn't have done it and I'd have fought anyone who tried." Gendry frowned in thought and scratched the back of his head.

Arya was quiet. She'd told Jon to kill Daenerys. She still didn't know if it was the right thing to do, but she couldn't let the woman get away with all her carnage. With the deaths of the woman and her little girl. It was just one more terrible thing she had done that might drive away anyone who claimed to love her.

"That's the second time I've told you I loved you." Gendry said as if he were reading her thoughts. "And you keep chasing me away, don't you?"

"I told Jon to kill her. Tyrion told him, too, but I think Jon killed her because of me." Arya blurted.

Gendry stared at her. He swallowed and nodded. "You were in the middle of it all. You saw firsthand. Anyone would want revenge. You spent your whole life on it. At least that matter was settled more quickly."

_Look at me! Do you want to end up like me?_

"I don't want it." Arya said quietly.

They stood in silence for a beat. "Me? You don't want me?"

"Revenge. I don't want revenge anymore. Nothing good has ever come from it." She corrected.

Gendry reached out and tapped the hilt of her dagger. "Oh, I dunno. You wouldn't have learned to fight like you can if you didn't have something to fight for. And, hey, you managed to kill the Night King."

Arya smiled at him again. "You really want to come with me?"

Gendry laughed lightly. "I dunno how many times I have to say it, but I'll say it once more. I want to be with you."

Arya reached up for him, but he was already leaning down to kiss her. She grinned as he slipped on the moving floor. They were both topless before they made it to the bed. Gendry fell heavily onto the mattress. Arya laughed at him.

"Never done it on a boat before." He mused as Arya worked her pants down her hips.

"I think the mechanics work the same anywhere." She kissed him again to shut him up.

Gendry pulled at her braid until her hair hung loose around her. He tucked his fingers into the strands as he kissed her slowly. Arya was sure to lose her mind to those kisses. She dug her fingers into the thick muscles on his shoulders and back. Then Gendry broke free and gave her an assessing stare.

"Have _you_ ever done it on a ship before?"

Arya rolled her eyes and slid herself down over him with a sigh. "I have now."

Gendry grinned and bucked his hips up against her. Arya gasped and smiled against his mouth. Her hands clawed at his back and arms as they worked together building one another into their climaxes. The ship tipped again at just the right moment and Arya let out a moan. Gendry came soon after, spilling himself onto the floor of her cabin.

There was a knock at her door a few seconds later. "Captain? You alright in there?"

Gendry was grinning at her arrogantly. She covered his face with her hand and shoved him away. "I'm fine, Moryn. Go back to bed."

Arya spent a good deal more time in her cabin with Gendry aboard. Something that did not go unnoticed by her crewmen. She heard whisperings between them about her kidnapping a lord for personal pleasure. There were other lewd comments about who else might offer her pleasure.

They died down after a month a sea when focus went to other things like when they'd next expect to see land. Or who was cooking their next meal. Or how the maester had mixed up their tonics and now someone's fingers had turned purple. Still, she'd hear the occasional snigger or proposition. Arya did well ignoring them all. Even when she was spying on her crew behind the bulkhead.

"Is it just lords she has a taste for, you think?" She overheard a crewman ask.

"Nah, Gared's a Black Sword and he says that Lord thing was a peace offering after the battle. He's no more noble than you or me. He was a smith, remember he made their weapons?"

"So what you're saying is I got a chance?" The first man leered.

Something hit the table the crewmen were sitting at. Arya couldn't see what it was from her hiding place behind the bulkhead, but she heard the men cowering.

The men walked quickly past her griping about someone threatening them. "Someone said he doesn't know how to swim. We might do just chuck him over."

"The fuck is a man doing on a ship when he doesn't know how to swim?"

"I'd jump ship for a bit of ass around now."

Arya started out of her hiding place after answers when a shout came down from above. Arya jumped up through the hatch and headed for Moryn. He was standing at the helm. Arya mounted the stairs two at a time and grabbed the spyglass as he held it out for her. She pointed it in the direction they were all facing and squinted.

There, on the horizon, was land. It had barely been three months at open sea. She saw smoke rising from the trees. Small, lazy tendrils drifting into the skies. Arya pulled the spyglass away from her face and squinted at the thin line of trees with her own eyes. She handed the spyglass back to Moryn.

"There's people there."

"There's a castle there." Gendry said, suddenly beside her.

Arya followed his finger. A ways to the right of the fires, a big, stone structure sat amidst the trees near the coastline. Arya pulled her own spyglass from her belt and fixed it on the spot. Moryn used his spyglass to do the same. Arya stared and squinted and the ship grew closer.

"Is that…?" Arya pulled her head back in shock and passed the spyglass to Gendry wordlessly.

Gendry peered through to the castle. "Those look like –"

"-Stark banners." They said together.

Moryn smacked his hand against the bittacle. "Still says we're going west, Captain."

Arya frowned. She looked up at her sails. Each one proudly displaying the grey direwolf running on a white field of House Stark. There was nothing changed about the banners on the western castle. Only that they were castle banners and not ship sails.

"I had a grandfather who sailed west thousands of years ago. Before Aegon Targaryen came with his dragons." Arya said. "Everyone just assumed he died."

"Thousands of years?" Moryn scanned the nearing coastline. "What've they been doing all this time?"

Arya started down to the hull shouting for them to weigh anchor. Gendry followed after her and Moryn, begrudgingly, after him. She called for the men to ready a boat to show and checked to see that she had both Needle and Cat's Paw in her belt where they belonged.

"What do you think? They'll see your masts and you'll tell them you're a Stark and they'll welcome you with open arms? They'll likely kill you and take your ship." Moryn complained as Arya and Gendry started into the boat.

"Stay with the ship, Moryn." Arya ordered. Then, she popped her head over the scuppers. "Meric! Spit! Let's _go_!" She shouted. The two men were scrambling for their weapons and leathers as they trampled over to the lowering boat.

Gendry settled his Warhammer on the bottom of the boat and picked up a set of oars. Patrek was already with him in the boat. His black axe on his belt. Moryn wasn't much of a fighter. He was a shipwright. He'd spent the majority of his life on ships apprenticing much in the same way Gendry had apprenticed with Tobho Mott. She needed her first mate on the ship moer than she needed him ashore.

They were eight by the time the boat started toward the shore. All the men with her were strong fighters. Four from the north including Gendry and three from elsewhere. One man was even from Braavos, though he was no Syrio Forel.

By the time the boat rowed up to the beaches, a crowd had gathered in the trees. Arya saw skin as dark as Daenerys' armies and darker. The fairer skinned people had longer faces. Gendry leaned forward on his seat.

"Are we sure about this?" He murmured.

Arya frowned at the people. She didn't see many weapons among them. A few bows here and there, but they weren't knocked. If they had intended to kill them, they very well could have tried while they were still stuck in the boat like sitting ducks.

She nodded. "This should be fun."


End file.
